


Sleeping in the Alkaline

by ChemicalPanic



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anorexia, Anxiety Attacks, Bad Jokes, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorder, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm now a bigg sad, Lots of Angst, M/M, Parent Death, Porn with Feelings, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, manslaughter??, murder??, or like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChemicalPanic/pseuds/ChemicalPanic
Summary: Hugo's sick.Both parents dying within less than a year of each other doesn't help and shit hits the fan real fast when he moves in with his uncle.





	1. Snowman Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've been cooking up for like 3 or 4 years by now?  
> Yeah yeah no, very dark pls read the tags
> 
> Seriously  
> Please  
> Read  
> The  
> Tags
> 
> Not beta-read (well, like kinda beta read but not completely) as always and title is from degasseur by brand new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for a wiiiiillllldddd ride (PS if anyone would like to beta read pls hmu)  
> ~Chemi

          I watch Hugo’s eyes flick to his phone and then at me and back at his phone. I soften my voice. “You need to go?” He purses his lips and nods, a slight tremor in his right hand, the one holding his straw. I glance at my watch for nothing but confirmation. “Your bus is in 2 minutes and the next one will make you late.” I've memorised the bus routes to his house and their timetables. “I'll drive?” He shakes his head a soft no and picks up his phone and wallet. He starts sprinting as soon as his foot hits the pavement.  
          When I get back home, it's just after seven and nobody is home yet. I raid the fridge for a yoghurt cup and a banana which I lavishly smother with my crunchy peanut butter. I take my spoils of victory up to my room along with a spoon with the image of a snowman pointing finger guns emblazoned on the back of the spoony bit. I log in to the messenger I only use with Hugo on my laptop.   
          ME: did you make it?   
          He replies within five spoonfuls of the cherry yoghurt.   
          HiddenSquid508: you know it~ super good at not being of the late   
          ME: coming to school tomorrow?   
          He takes a bit longer to respond.   
          HiddenSquid508: idek prob not   
          (Translation: ‘Mother is in a bad mood and might refuse to take all the locks off the house again and I'll be trapped and possibly beaten for a day or two,’) I feel the rage start to bubble up inside me but I just take a more aggressive than necessary bite of the banana.   
          ME: is she feeding you today?   
          HiddenSquid508: spag for dinner tonight yeehaw   
          (‘She's making dinner for herself again and won't let me touch it, most likely. She said something about spaghetti I think??’)   
          ME: okay hugbug, message or call if you need me yeah?   
          HiddenSquid508: ty brain :* (‘I won't message but nice try’)   
          He logs out of the website and the circle next to his user switches from green to red. I furrow my brow in frustration and scrape the rest of my yoghurt into my mouth hole. I'm going to fucking punch his mum. I open a new tab on my Opera browser (objectively the best) and enter tumblr for my daily dose of hot people. I spend the next few hours watching gifs of Rihanna laughing and looking at Tom Holland's adorable frog-in-mouth face.   
          The next morning, Hugo isn't at school and I'm late. I approach AJ and Doc at recess, AJ watching something on Doc’s phone and giggling, Doc watching something on AJ’s phone with a dead-face. I drop my bag onto the ground next to them and sit down with fifteen minutes left until the bell for the next instalment of hell rings. AJ takes out his earphone and smiles softly at me. “Hugo’s skipping again?” I laugh and nod. They don't know about Hugo’s mum. They haven't seen his bruises. “Ugh, drag him to school, the little ho needs his BFF back. I’m the little ho by the way.” I smirk.   
          “Yeah, yeah nah, I’m hanging out with him today after school, I’ll try getting him in on Monday.”   
          Doc furrows his brows in a confused grin. “He’s not even sick?”   
          “Yeah, school sucks.” I smirk again, holy shit I smirk a lot, and point my finger guns at them. “But I'll try for you AJ.”   
          AJ smirks back. “Nah, just chop in dude.” Doc apparently grabs at any distraction with a pained, emotionally constipated look on his face.

          “Chopping in is indeed a good option, Mr Christmas Tree.”  
          “Cease it.” I jokingly narrow my eyes at them both. “I don't want to chop in, he's just a pretty neat dude.” I said, you know, like a liar. “And for your information, Mr _Jordan,_ I am not pining.”   
          “Yeah fam whatever lets you sleep at night. Obviously not Hugo.” AJ pokes his tongue out at me and plugs the earphone back in. I flip him off and go back onto my phone with my Merge Dragons!. I send Hugo a text at the end of lunch, ‘over?’. He replies almost instantly. ‘Please’. *ping* Grim smile unlocked.   
          Last period is PDHPE with a way-too-chipper-for-last-period-on-a-Friday teacher. As soon as the bell goes, I grab my bag and run out of school to my car. I dump my shit in the front seat and put on my seatbelt, as all responsible drivers do. Key in ignition and to the tune of Mr. Brightside I drive to Hugo’s house. It's the third Friday of the month and that means his mum is doing the 24hour shift at the hospital. We have a sleepover and go grocery shopping and cook and eat together and it's amazing. She leaves at two in the arvo and comes back around three the next day.   
          He's standing outside with a cigarette already lit up, leaning onto the veranda. He sees my car and smirks my way (did I get my smirking from him?). Smoking; on one hand it's super bad for you and the people around you, but on the other, it's super fucking hot, especially when Hugo does it. He snickers at me awkwardly getting out of my car and pulling my bag out and takes it off my hands and flings it onto his back. He’s in his black sweater and his skinny jeans, looking absolutely gorgeous and I think I stare for just a little too long. He finishes his cigarette before going into the house. The house is sterile, with white walls, tiled floors and cling wrapped furniture. It smells like Dettol, Glen 20 and death. Surgeon’s houses are fucking crazy. He walks me up the stairs to his bedroom and unceremoniously chucks my backpack and sleepover supplies onto his bed. “Welcome back to hell.” His voice carries his smirk. He's a beautiful voice. “I'm not hungry today.” I furrow my brows together and my brain is screaming red flashing lights at me.   
          “Come on hug bug, have you eaten anything yesterday?”   
          “Well breakfast was cheerios, lunch a Caesar salad wrap, and dinner spaghetti so uh yeah.” His eyes are heavy-lidded, deep in an eyeroll.   
          “I worry about you. You know that, right?” He smirks back.   
          “We can still cook if you wanna.” He plops himself down onto the bed, hands on the bed on both sides of his hips. “I like it when you eat, it's super important.”   
          “Okay…” I rub my eyes like people do when they're trapped into a decision. I remember the last straw I've to grasp at and point my steepled hands at him.  “Will you eat the snacks?”   
          “Uh yeah no.” He laughs and my chest fucking tightens.   
          “Hug bug, are you high?” He rolls his eyes. “Okay what on?”   
          “Just some codeine.” Holy shit he's wearing his mask. He's wearing his ‘people are watching’ mask. I've never had it directed at me before, oh my god. He stands up and takes a deep drink from his water bottle. “Yeah, went to work with mother and hit on the dispensary, since I’m pretty, he gave me a few.”   
          “Hugo…” He’s lit up with the golden rays of the early midwinter sunset. “For fuck’s sake stop fucking people for drugs.”   
          “Yeah well I'm broke, and even if I wasn't, I'm a cheapskate.” He rolls his eyes again.   
          “Okay, so can you stop doing drugs?” He laughs and I laugh and yup he broke me. “Okay can we at least watch some AHS?”   
          “That, my good dude, I can do.” He takes his shitty laptop and boots it up. While it starts, he takes the sweater off and instead pulls on his pyjama shirt, a white fleece with red pinstripes running down the length of it.   
          “You've lost weight.” I nod at his chest, ribs starting to make themselves known through his almost translucent skin. He looks down and shrugs.   
          “Yeah that happens sometimes.” He buttons everything up. “Out. Trouser time.”   
          I huff. “I'll make us some tea. Green and peppermint?” He finger guns at me and I nod. “Aight lit, you just don't get stuck yeah?” He gives me a thumbs up and pushes me out.   
          I flick on the kettle after checking the water level and deeming it satisfactory. My favourite mug, black with raised dots, and Hugo’s least hated, the completely clear one, both yeet themselves out of their cupboard with no help from me whatsoever. I add a bit of cold water to his mug and plonk the teabags into our mugs (mine is a lady grey and a sugar cube). By the time I bring the teas to Hugo, he's already changed and got the first season in a queue in the player and has his knitting out. “Nice of you to join us, Brian Becker-Stanford. Took you long enough.” He pokes his tongue out at my middle finger and pats the bed next to him. We can't really fit side-by-side on his tiny single mattress so he sits down onto my lap and I hold him while we watch, the laptop on one of those hospital food trays that goes over the bed (an old model from the local hospital). His pelvis digs painfully into my thighs and I eventually have to force a pillow under him, when it gets unbearable. He gives me a joking glare and then turns back to the screen, leaning into my chest. Violet is getting beat. Great. His body tenses when she's in the bathroom and he digs his nails into my hand which he grabbed onto at one point. He gasps when she digs the razor in and turns around to me, hiding his face in my shoulder. I stroke his hair and up and down his waist, whispering “It's alright hugbug.” and when the scene is over, I softly nudge him with my forehead.   
          “Sorry, I've seen this like ten million times by now and it shouldn't affect me anymore and it usually doesn't, but yeah no I really like her and hate seeing her hurt.” I bite my bottom lip to shut myself up. “And you know, after what happened at work…”   
          “It's alright hug bug, I understand, and you don't have to be sorry." I smile at him and he manages a soft smile back. Wow we're nerds.   
          The season ends close to midnight, and he pushes the sliding tray away. He's looked on the verge of tears for the past four episodes, but hasn't broken out of it yet, he's stayed strong, probably because of the warning given to him by Violet very early on. He stands up off me, giving me a great opportunity to stretch before I'd turn onto my side and he'd curl into my chest for the night. He flicks the light off, and we're left only with the moonlight cascading in through his wide open blinds. He softly pads his way to me and I open my arms for him, inviting him in even closer to me. He climbs in and brings the blanket up to the middle of my chest and to his shoulders. I softly pull him in a little closer. "She's getting worse." He barely whispers into my chest so that I have to strain just to hear him. "She's more strict and she's mocking me again and it's all just gone to shit since dad died. When I stayed with him, things were okay and I could breathe but now that he's gone, I'm alone again and she keeps telling me that he was horrible and a bad person and she's making fun of him and she's happy he's gone because he was corrupting me into being _like him_ and he was distancing me from her." He takes a deep breath. "I don't know how much more I can take, and every single day, she kills him again and I hate it, I hate her so much Brian." His voice is perfectly level and calm and he keeps going. "I'm empty, I can't will myself to do anything and then she yells at me for being so lazy and for being tired for no reason." I hold him a little tighter than I probably should but he doesn't seem to notice. "This might be the last time we do this." He gives a soft scoff. "I-"   
          "No." I say, and he jumps a little, as if he forgot I was listening. "No Hugo. You are not killing yourself. If you kill yourself, I'm gonna be so fucking pissed. I'm going to bring you back from the dead and bitch slap you so fucking hard, your teeth fly out." He looks up at me and smirks.   
          "You know that you can't stop me. You know that I've been killing myself for a long time, you must have realised by now and if you haven't then holy shit you're blind. You know that I have lost everything I was. I've lost fucking everything to this disease." I purse my lips tightly, forcing the sharp words down, forcing them further away from my precious Hugo. "You haven't noticed have you? You do a good job at pretending to care, don't you?" _He's backed into a corner Brian, he's lashing out, don't take the bait, just be here for him._ "Please…" He's boring holes into my eyes with his stare. "Please just say something. Please just say some shit that will hurt me and that you'll regret and that I can use as ammunition against you."   
          "I love you." He just rolls his eyes. 

          "Yeah Brian I fucking love you too but this isn't the-" He scoffs.

          "I mean… like more than friends." He stares, shell-shocked. I shrug. "You said to say something that I'll regret."  
          “It really do be like that.” He blinks a few times. "I need a smoke."   
          "Fair." He stands up again, and I can clearly see how shaky he is. "Do you want me to stay here?"   
          "I mean yeah but that's probably not a good idea, so um yeah, come with me I guess?" He stammers a little and I smirk at him. He rummages in his school bag for a cigarette and his lighter and when he straightens out again, he's just about to light up and I let out a weird yelp to warn him. "Oh um yeah, yeah no you're right let's go outside?" He strides out of his room so fast I have to jog along with him. As soon as he's out of the house he lights up the cigarette. "Not too close though yeah? I don't want you to get cancer." I scoff and put my hands up in an 'okay yeah no sure whatever' gesture. He keeps his brow furrowed tightly as he smokes and his eyes are focused at some point very, very far away. When he finishes it, he walks back into the house without a word or even a glance at me and I follow him once again. He climbs into his bed with the same emotionally constipated expression and motions for me to come in with him. I climb back in and hug him again. We fall asleep in silence.   
          Sometime while it's still dark out, he wakes me up by sliding out of my arms. He doesn't notice that I'm awake, clearly, and he moves to sit in his chair. I watch through half-open eyes as he handles a tiny bit of something reflecting the moonlight perfectly. He plugs it into his ear, and a twin one into the other. I can hear his music from here. "Cry cry little sister -thou shall not mourn-" Marilyn Manson. Classic. He starts to shake and shiver, and he lets out strange squeaks of sobs and I feel a fist clench in my chest. He curls in on himself, clutching at his sides, fabric of his nightshirt bunched up in his fists. I want to stand up and comfort him. I have to. But I know that I'll only really make it worse and I just lay here, unable to shut out his pain, no, his agony and he's bent in half and the song changes to screaming and he stays there for another five or six songs. He rips the earphones out of his phone and on shaky legs walks back to the bed. I shift at the added weight on the mattress, pretending to have just woken up. "Hmm…" I faux-stretch out my back with a hum. "Toilet break, eh? How-" I plant a perfectly faked big yawn. "How didn't I wake up when you left?" He smiles and climbs back into my arms, head on my shoulder and hand splayed on my chest.   
          The morning is normal, too normal for what happened last night, but Hugo doesn't bring it up and I don't bring it up and I'm half hoping that he forgot about it. I make an omelette for the both of us while he’s giving an animated speech on why the first Sacred game is better than the second. “Okay, but like it was so convenient to play the daemon character, like you could get a skill like super early in the game and you could fucking fly! Who needs bridges when you can fly? Like there is this area right next to the starting zone where enemies are all melee and close to the riverbank, so you can shoot them with your bow or skills or whatever and then a normal character can't get to their drops because there’s no bridge. The daemon character can get their wings at like level one or two, fly over into the level like twenty zone, get the super good loot and sell it or use it and it's fucking perfect.” He accentuates the ‘perfect’ with a wave of his fork. “There's also this super cool graveyard-”   
          “Okay yeah, that’s pretty cool, but the graphics are weird and you don't get the god benefit, and there are graveyards with the same but better inscriptions in Sacred 2 too, and, and this is probably the best thing, the Blind Guardian concert quest is super cool and interesting and the video is amazing, like they fucking animated the band and they played Sacred Worlds and you get the instruments as weapons afterwards, it's pretty fucking iconic.” He rolls his eyes at me and takes a long sip of his water.   
          “Okay but like I love the pixelly graphics of the first one. And there's more class variety too. You can play as a fucking vampire for fuck’s sake. Or as like an angelic priestess bitch. And it's so pretty! Like yeah the second has a hell of a better story, but like… nostalgia, no?” I smirk back at him. “Okay, can we agree that they're both really good?”   
          “Uh no, we haven't even gotten to the mount argument. Like the wheel, or tiger or lizard or a massive fucking spider? Or oh my god the dragon? And it's just so big and long and amazing, I honestly love the second one so much.” He pushes his little forkful of egg around his plate.   
He stares at me blankly for a second. “Brian what the fuck is wrong with you? You get to fight dragons in the first one. _Dragons._ Like actual massive ones and not the little shitty monstrosities that look like actual blobfish and seahorses fucked a slimeball.”   
          “Shit you right. How the fuck did I forget the dragons?” He smirks and takes my now empty plate, along with his to the sink, stacking mine on his like he does in that cafe he now works at. 

          “Ha ha! I have beaten you, foul beast!” He victoriously throws up his fist, suds running down his arm, meeting the t-shirt he put on after waking up.  
          “Fucking hell Hugo, holding out on the big guns like that.” He giggles and wipes the suds away. He starts drying the plates off.   
          “Hey…” He says after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “About the love thing yesterday, is it like a platonic thing or…?”   
          “Or.” I say definitively. “Most definitely an ‘or’ thing.” There goes the _comfort_ from our comfortable silence. It’s just like… an ‘able silence’ now.   
          “Got it…” He draws out.   
          “You don't have to feel the same way, okay? Like you don't even really need to give me an answer, I just… I don't know, I just wanted to tell you I guess? And yeah okay I'm rambling now, shutting up.” I take a few breaths as he nods slowly.   
          “Um… Okay… I will give you an answer… Eventually?” I give a soft smirk at his confused face. “Um… yeah, sorry, things are a bit awkward right now, sorry.”   
          “Stop apologising hug bug, you don’t have to.” I smile gently at him and he smirks back (yeah I got my smirking from him).


	2. Family Portraits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooft hells yeah dissociation and death and boyfriend making and step-dads  
> yeehaw  
> ~Chemi

          He leaves at around two thirty. I wash his plate and throw all of my omelette over the backyard fence. I learnt how to hide my not eating and un-eating habits very well through the use of carefully positioned plates, strong mint gum and flat out fucking lying. I scour the burnt little bits of egg off the pan and ignore the emptiness and rumbling in my stomach. Everything is spotless and I'm hidden away in my room by the time mother comes home. She yells a hello at me and I respond within 5 seconds because if I don't she panics and gets angry. I close my eyes and listen to her footsteps downstairs. She's in the kitchen. And then she's storming up the stairs. “Hugo!” She swings open my door and starts in her viper voice. “I've been at work for twenty-four hours, I slave for you to have this lifestyle and you can’t even make me a sandwich?” I hang my head, ready for a berating. “And what did I tell you about keeping your door closed?!” She slides over to me and grabs my chin and rips it upward so I have to look at her. “Look at me when you're spoken to!”

          “I'm sorry.” I manage to keep my voice level and respectful through a throat choked with tears. 

          She shakes her head and lowers her voice. “You close this door again and I'll take it off the hinges.” She scoffs and walks out of my room. Again. The last time she did, I didn't have a door for eighteen months. 

          I stay motionless for a minute, not even really daring to breathe for fear of her coming back. She doesn't and I lie down in my bed, on top of the covers and cross my arms across my chest, hands on my shoulders. I bend my knees to ninety degrees and start my sit ups. Fifty, then break for like ten seconds and then another fifty. Trace the alphabet with my feet, hovering just millimetres above the covers, feel the burn in my abdomen and then a hundred more sit ups. I've learnt how to make it absolutely silent and I'm exhausted when I finish. I woke up at six this morning and made it to my twelve thousand step goal so now all I have to do is not eat for the rest of the day and I will be fine, I won’t gain and I'll be fine.  _ Holy shit Brian loves me. _

_           Like eros loves me? Or ludus loves me? It can't be pragma yet I don't think. And he said it wasn’t just philos, and storge doesn’t really apply here, I don’t think it’s mania, and he's definitely striving for agape but agape is just like deeper and broader philos. So it's eros or ludus. _ “Fuck.” I mutter to myself and sit down onto my desk chair and bury my face in my hands.  _ I have to give him an answer. I have to find it and then give it to him. I obviously experience philos for him, and I don't think I can experience pragma, philautia or storge. Agape is out of the question for now. Mania is an imbalance of eros and ludus and I need to work out whether I experience either to see if there's an imbalance. I mean I don't think I’d invite people I didn't want in my bed into my bed, and he was full on cuddling me yesterday, but is that just philos or is that like bordering on eros? I want him to be in my life, and I love our arguments on video games and I love his stupid smile and how much he cares and I love the way his forehead crinkles when he thinks too hard and how he bunches up his nose when there’s sun in his eyes. I love the way he holds me, like I’m everything to him and I love how he doesn’t pressure me to get help and how he gives me space when I need it and wow. Isn’t this like philos? Hugo, do you want to fuck this boy?  _ I think for a minute. His body is amazing. His voice is perfect. His face is heavenly.  _ Yes. So this is eros? Eros and probably a bit of ludus, now all I need to do is keep them in balance? I love Brian. That’s a big oof right there. _

          I'll tell him, I'll tell him when we’re actually face to face because  _ I love him ? _

 

          Mother comes by again around seven when I'm doing my physics homework. “Come have dinner with me. You look like a poor kid from Nigeria.” 

          “I um… sorry mum I have a pretty bad headache…” She glares at me and I stand up on shaky legs and close my textbook and binder. I haven't eaten for two days. I don't need to eat yet, stop it. She'll get angry that I'm eating a lot and then I'll lose a day of finishing and starting homework and assignments because of  _ the cupboard. _

          She's mouth-smiling at me when I sit down. Her eyes are screaming something that triggers my panic response. I force it down and start cutting up my steamed carrots. “How’s school?”  _ Fuck she knows. _

          “It’s alright.” She looks at me with  _ the look _ and I'm instantly reminded why I fucking hate these family dinners; every question needs to be answered perfectly and a topic isn't over until she says so. “A little stressful I guess.”

          “Hmm.” She takes a sip of her wine. “What about work? Is work going okay? I know you worked with your father but is the cafe better?”

          I nod. “Yeah, the cafe is going really well. I’m happy I got my barista training in time for this.”

          “Are the customers treating you alright?”

          “Yeah they’re all lovely, I can remember the names and regular orders of some of our regulars now."

          “Are the kids at school still good to you? No more bullying?”

          “No, no, this school has been much better than the old one and now I can meet my preschool and primary school friends again.”

          “Any assessments coming up?” Her eyes give off a kind of glint that I don't like.

          “J- Um no not too soon. I have a hand-in for Physics but… but I'm um, working on it with Bri-” Fuck. Oh shit okay fuck how could I forget, fuck I'm so rusty, shit.

          “Oh the black faggot?” She takes a bite out of her bread roll. “Are you turning like him? Are you gonna start sodomising little boys too?” I hate how casually she's shitting on him. I hate it. I hate her so much. She looks at me expectantly as she carves up her roast beef. 

          “No.” She's a fucking psychic, fuck like… I'm not gonna fuck kids, but the gay thing… My heart is pounding out of my chest and there's some sort of pressure on my sternum and my vision blurs. Everything returns when she swipes the plates off the table and reaches up over the table to grab my shirt. She jerks my collar so that the table stabs into my abdomen. _ Oh she's drunk. _ I look over her shoulder.  _ How didn't I smell it earlier? _ “No.” I say firmer but I'm tearing up and she laughs and shoves me back onto my chair. She takes her wine glass and sips at it again as she walks over to me and kneels in front of my prison chair.

          “I raised a little faggot.” She stares right through me and the pressure feels like it's about to cave my chest in. “No, your  _ father _ raised a little faggot and then died and left me to clean up his mess.” She pokes a thin finger into my chest.  _ I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, she's insulting dad _ . “You're pathetic. This is the one fucking thing those religious hippies have right, you fucking fags…” She looks me up and down once, twice and shakes her head with a scoff. “Room. Now.” I stand up gingerly and soundlessly pad away and up the stairs.  _ Fuck fuck fuck. No she can’t know yet, she can’t if she knows she’ll hurt me. She’ll hurt me again.  _ My entire body shakes and the emptiness inside starts clawing. Shredding my insides and I force air into my lungs and burst out in coughs, body desperately trying to keep the sound in and. 

          Breathe.

          Breathe.

          Breathe.

          I stand up. My whole body buzzing with an electric current and she’s moving downstairs she’s doing something downstairs she’s doing something downstairs. You got this Hugo You got this Hugo.  _ I felt the air rise up in me- get out of my- breaking my mind- inside my shell I-  _ The chair grinds against the tiles. The wind outside is blowing leaves against my window. She’s coming up the stairs.  _ Can you hear the silence- _ She’s close and the leaves stop. The leaves stop. I look over at them, one barely  _ Forgive me father I love you mother can you fix the broken _ stuck to the glass and I see a figure in the glass and it’s made of glass. I can touch it and it will shatter and I’m  _ the higher I get the lower I sink I long for that feeling I’m scared to get close I can’t drown my I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared  _ scared I’m scared. Breathe breathe breathe  _ take the child out back and shoot it.  _ I stand up I sat down? I stand up and I see the stars with Orion and the southern cross burning bright above me, burning into my eyes and I stand up and I see the stars. She’s in my room. I see her face, beautiful, evil, beautiful, bright cherry lipstick. She grabs me by the collar. How dare you. 

          How dare I how dare I.

          How dare I.

          You were my everything you were my only son and you were my life and you are fucking yourself over and you’re fucking our family line over.

          I’m bleeding. My nose is broken. My ribs hurt. 

          Brian brian brian brian brian.

          I struggle and there’s a fake nail on the carpet and my stomach is tearing itself open. Pretty brown eyes. Pretty black hair.

          Staircase.

          Family portraits. Dad. Dad. Dad I miss you so much Dad come back Dad please I need you Dad Dad…

          You are and always were a failure you can’t follow simple requests you are a disappointment you never loved me you are a demon and you’re not my son and you were never my son and you don’t deserve to be alive why are you alive when your father had to die you don’t deserve to be here while your father is dead how dare you take him away from me.

          Dad. Dad. Dad please save me please save me Dad. Pretty fake nails are digging into my throat. Pretty fake nails are tearing me open. Pretty brown eyes burning holes in my glass figure. Pretty black hair a wild mess around a pretty face. Pretty black spots cover most of the pretty family portraits. Pretty shaking hands push at a pretty  _ tell your friends to sharpen their teeth. Wolves come out of the woodland. And the snakes start to sing  _ white blouse.

          The pretty white blouse is on the ground. 

          The pretty brown eyes are turning a pretty shade of empty.

          A pretty fake nail is buried in my throat.

_           Would have been should have been but never ever will be and I fall apart  _

_           If you can’t soar with the  _

_           Did you catch your own reflection in the knife my mother held or the hell in my father’s eyes? _

  
  


          I wake up to a corpse. To a corpse and to injuries so severe that any movement is agony. I force myself to stand up. I scream through it but I stand up.

          My mother is dead. My father is dead. I’m not dead. 

          I trudge over to the phone. My throat is in shreds. The operator picks up.

          “I don’t know. My mother is dead.”

          Then Brian picks up.

          “Please.” There’s emotion in this voice. “Please come over.” Brian arrives first.

          “Hugo! Hug bug, oh my god what happened? Hug bug-?” I pull him into a hug and he nods into my hair. He takes me to the couch, the cling wrap still there.  _ Of course it’s there. Where would it go?  _ “What’s there hug bug?”

          “Cling wrap.” He nods again and takes a deep breath and runs up to my room using the other set of stairs. He comes back with sweaters and hoodies all wrapped in all the blankets he could find. He even brought Spike. He makes a nest for me out of all the soft things. Then the police arrive. And the coroner. He answers the door. He talks to them and I don’t know what he’s saying. I hear nothing. I just hug Spike and watch. Dad bought him for me when I was six and we went to the zoo with his ‘friend’ on a Sunday morning because Mother was working. He married that friend after leaving Mother when I was ten.

          “...Hugo?” I blink a few times to find a face in front of me. The man has an accent. I can’t quite place it. “Hugo, do you know where you are?” The man looks at me for a few seconds and I blink a few times.

          “Mother’s house.” He leans forward to hear me and oh, he’s German. 

          “Okay, okay good, that’s great, can you tell me what day it is?” I blink away from the man’s face and look at Brian. “Hugo, it’s okay to look at me alright? I won’t hurt you.” I turn back to him.  _ What day is it? What day is it? Yesterday was Friday so today is Saturday. _

          “S-Saturday?” I glance over at Brian and he looks on the verge of tears.

          “No Hugo, today is Sunday.” The German man looks concerned. He’s wearing a police uniform. Why a police uniform? “I need to talk to you about what happened, is that alright?”

          “What… happened?” Oh, Mother is dead.

          “Yes, your mother…?” He’s a policeman and that’s why he’s wearing a police uniform. Why is he in the house Mother doesn’t like police officers in the house.

          Oh, Mother is dead.

          “Sorry, but I don’t know if he’s able to communicate very well right now? No disrespect officer, but I just don’t know how helpful he can be in such a state?” Brian says and looks over at me and I think I’m crying?

          The officer stands up. He was crouching the whole time I guess. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right… Can we…? Do you have an adult who can stay with him and keep him safe for a few days? Just until… you know…? He can talk?”

          “Yeah, Hugo has an uncle in the area.” I look over at Brian again. He looks so scared.

          “Okay. Call us with the address. If anything comes up, or happens with him, call us. We’ll be back in a few days.” The German police officer who knows Mother is dead and wants an adult, my uncle, to keep me safe scrawls something onto his notebook, rips the page out and hands it to Brian. The phone number. He gave Brian the phone number to call them if anything happens to me. I look over at the base of the stairs and Mother’s body is gone. There’s no blood on the tile. Probably some stuck in the grout though, Mother will be so angry and she’ll force me to scrub it out with a toothbrush again and my knees will hurt.  _ Why is there blood on the tile?  _ The German police officer and his partner leave but I didn’t even get to see the coroner.

          Brian comes back to me. He takes me into his arms and lets me sob my heart out into his chest, Spike the toy koala separating us with his small fluffy body. I cry myself to sleep and when I wake up, Brian is still in the same position, holding and supporting me, and the TV is playing Masterchef. “Hi again my little Hugbug. Would you like a cup of tea? Or some soup?” I shake my head and sit up-still holding Spike to my chest- and pull on a hoodie. I pull the hood up and rest my head against Brian’s shoulder. He holds my shoulders and we just watch Masterchef and then he flips over from the news to episodes of the Simpsons, Futurama, American Dad, and Family Guy. Which we watch until I fall asleep again.

          I wake up again in the morning, early morning, like four or five in the morning and he’s dozed off in his sitting position, head leaning back against the back cushions, but he’s still holding me and I’m mourning.

          I wake up again at maybe eight in the morning and he’s watching the cartoons again, stubble growing in and eyes ringed with soft dark circles.

          “Toilet?” He looks at me and smiles and nods and while I’m gone, I hear him stand up and stretch, bones or whatever it is snapping and cracking into place. When I’m back, he’s still standing up. “Tea?” 

          “Of course Hug bug.” He smiles softly and I feel that affection stir in my chest again. “The usual?” I nod.

          He makes us the tea. I, while he does that, slip into Mother’s room and check her filing cabinet for my documents, like my birth certificate and passport and everything else. I find them quickly enough, wishing that I had thought of doing  this earlier, the taste of freedom dancing across my tongue. I bump my head on the shelf above the cabinet as I straighten out and I hear the clinks of her bottles.  _ We can take a bottle for if shit gets bad _ . I reach over and close my fingers around the neck and smuggle it into my school bag.

          We sit right next to each other at the dining table when I come back, a raised eyebrow from him, a shrug in response from me. Danny, Brian’s nineteen year old brother arrives within the minute. Brian answers the door again and they hug and I think I heard Brian sob. Danny walks over to me and opens his arms. I nod. He hugs me too. “Hugo, honey, can I treat your wounds?” He’s a med student. It’s okay. It will be okay. I nod again and he gets his backpack and opens it and pulls out the first aid kit. 

          It hurts. It hurts as he tries to fix me but I let him because I’m holding Brian’s hand and Brian tells me how wonderful he thinks I am and Homer is getting irritated in the background.

          “I love you too Brian.” He huffs and squeezes my hand. Then he starts crying and I don’t know how to fix it. I send a concerned look over at Danny and he shrugs as he applies butterfly stitches to a gash on my hip that the staircase probably gave me. 

          “Hugo, is there any pain in your legs?” I shake my head, lying through my fucking teeth. I feel something not fun happening down there but he can’t see the remnants of the other not fun things that have happened there. I stroke the back of Bri’s hand with my thumb and he wipes at his eyes and gives me a watery smile.

          “Okay, so you’ll be sore for a while because you’re bruised practically everywhere, but your risk of infection is minimal.” He sorts through the medkit. “Um, I’m gonna give you some disinfectant wipes and extra butterfly stitches just in case something opens up or something, I don’t know.” He purses his lips softly at me. “I  _ really  _ think they should’ve sent you to hospital. Like, you need real stitches on some of this and I’m not even a professional yet, and you might have some sprains or bone damage or brain damage, like concussive stuff or something.”

          “He was wrapped in a blanket and he doesn’t really talk much, in front of strangers that is, so they couldn’t see how fucked he was.” He gives me a soft smile but his eyes are still a little puffy and I see he’s holding back tears.

          Danny purses his lips and raises his eyebrows once to show his distaste for the decision. “Well, what can we do? Hugo, do you want to go to hospital? I can take you?” I shake my head with a small smile, desperately trying to hide my panic. “Okay, um… y’all want me to stay and be a responsible adult and look after you guys or get out and let you… um… teenager stuff?” He glares and points a finger at Bri. “With protection by the way young man.”

          “I’m not wearing a fucking helmet while watching the Simpsons.” I huff and squeeze Bri’s hand. “But I wanna talk to Hugo so yeah, you can get out, remind mum and dad I’m staying over again, taking one of my sick days from school if I must, because I texted them but they haven’t responded yet.”

          “Will do loser.” Danny slings his backpack over his shoulder. “You take care Hugo, don’t let this little shithead mess you up yeah?” He turns back to Bri trying to mutter quietly enough so I wouldn’t hear but he fails and I do. “Take him to the hospital if shit gets bad yeah?” He leaves with that. 

          We sit in silence for a good few minutes.

          “I’m sorry Bri.” I whisper when the silence gets too much. “Thank you so much for coming. Thank you for talking to everyone. Thank you for being with me.”

          “It’s alright hug bug. You’re pretty cool and I like you and I care about you a lot. I want you safe and happy and maybe this is the way there for you. Maybe this pain was all worth it and your uncle is a good new guardian.” He smiles at me so softly and genuinely that I feel myself start to tear up again.

          “I hope so Bri.” I smile back. “I wanna go back to the couch.” He rolls his eyes and smirks and wait what fuck why do I wanna kiss him like right now? He gets up and drags me by the hand over to the couch and plops me down and sits a little way away from me. I roll my eyes and lie down onto his lap. “I’m gay and you like me so yeehaw.” I say matter-of-factly to his knee and he bursts out in laughter. “Yes I know, I’m hilarious.” My heart feels a little tight and my breaths are picking up in frequency and dropping in air volume intake. He carefully brushes a finger through my hair and my traitor body shivers. He keeps brushing my hair and the desire to fucking kiss that little shit only gets stronger and stronger until I, in an act of desperation wrench myself upward and look him dead in the eye as my mouth goes dry. I clear my throat and furrow my brows. “Um yeah Bri, can I kiss you, yeehaw?” He flushes a deep maroon and just looks embarrassed as all hell. “I mean, you don’t have-”

          “Um, no, I’d um… I’d actually like that very much, like a lot, like a lot, a lot.” I smirk, my heartbeat picking up again and scoot on closer to him. “This is gonna be um… My first kiss, so like…” I give him a soft smile and in a moment of courage that I pulled out of my ass, I scoot right on next to him. He, very awkwardly, places a hand on the side of my neck and I cup his cheek with a soft hand and lean in to just gently brush his lips with mine, sliding my eyes shut. I feel my skin start to  _ burn _ . I kiss him with a little bit more conviction, pressing my lips a little closer into his and he presses back. He isn’t just hot in the fancy ‘oh look he’s attractive’ way but in the actual ‘oh shit do you have a fever’ way. His cheek is burning up under my palm and I pull away softly. “S-sorry, I’m really nervous.” He mutters and I smile at him. 

          “‘S all good Bri. Let’s postpone it yeah?” He nods and I lie back down onto his lap. 

          We watch TV for a few hours, until around five in the afternoon. I just lazily rest my head in his lap, and he alternates playing with my hair and on his phone. It’s blissful and I’m only broken out of it by my phone vibrating in my pocket. Bri stops playing with my hair enough to let me get my phone out and check who dares disturb my peace. I sit up when the name finally clicks. “Bri I have to take this.” I slide the green button and fake a cheery voice. “Hey Tony, what's up?” Bri holds up a thumb up with the questioning eyebrows and a head tilt. I shrug in response.

          “Hugo, hey, how are you?” He makes small talk sound important. “I heard what happened to your mother and wanted to check in.” Oh this isn't small talk. Got it. 

          “Um, yeah just a little in shock I guess.” I flash Bri a thumbs up and he instantly relaxes back into his couch slouch. A pause that feels just a little too long passes on the phone. 

          “If you want to talk about  _ anything  _ just give me a call. I know we haven't spoken much since… well, you can talk to me if you ever need to.” He takes a small break. “Do you have a place to stay? You're always welcome at my house you know.”

          “Um yeah thank you Tony, seriously thank you so much but um… I can't, Mother has assigned me to her brother and legally I can't do much about that, but if you don't mind, maybe we can just hang out sometimes? I miss you.” Bri hasn't lifted his eyes off me for the entire exchange. 

          “Yeah kiddo, any time. I... I miss you too.” A really long pause passes.

          “I um… I have homework to do but let's call again soon?” 

          “Yeah, yeah of course Hugo, just call or text, just remember I might take a little while longer to reply during school. Um, okay, talk to you soon yeah?”

          “Yeah. See you Tony.” I hang up and plop myself back into the couch.

          “You all good?” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and I lean into his warm chest. 

          “Yeah dude. My um… my step-dad called, just to check in on me you know?”

          “He sounds nice.” I take his hand and start playing with his fingers. 

          “He's amazing. He was really good to Dad, and he even helped him out at the store and with the trauma and stuff. He wanted to take me in after Dad…” I take a deep breath. “Yeah, but mother convinced him that she'd changed and that she was good for me. He didn't know everything she did so he was okay with it. Then we kinda stopped talking.”

          “And this is the first time I've heard of him?” Bri smirks, I hear it in his voice. 

          “You haven't heard a lot about my life.” I press myself closer by his side. 

          “I’d love to know more. Since you know, we're… closer… now.” I huff and look up at him, his face in an adorable aloof mask. “D’you… Um…” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as I look at him, staring and trying to figure out what in the fuck he's trying to say. “Are we like… a  _ thing _ now?”

          “Oh, yeah dude, you're my boyfriend now.” I stare him dead in the eyes for dominance and break out in laughter within the next ten seconds. “We've exchanged words of love, performed goat sacrifices and went through a tough time together. We're all good.”

          “Ooft.” He sucks his teeth. “I haven't sacrificed Velma yet.” I look at him with feigned shock and disgust. He throws his hands up. “I'm sorry! Like she's so cute and sweet-”

          “Brian Becker-Stanford, don't give me that BS, go and sacrifice that goat right now! I can't have you as my beau if you don't kill a goat for Artemis. The goddess of the gays is so disappointed in this.”

          “Hugo, Artemis is for lesbians.”

          “Lesbians are gay.” I cross my arms and squint at him.

          “Yeah but Icarus threw himself across the sky to fuck the sun. Like Helios the sun dude. Or Apollo, the other sun dude. He's the original disaster gay and who I am sacrificing my Velma to.”

          “Aren't you like… a disaster finger-guns bi-?”

          “Besides the point!” He interrupts and presses his finger to my lips. “Shhhh.” I give up and re-cross my arms and roll my eyes and he takes the finger away. He moves his face closer and butterflies start being little bitches and throwing a rave in my insides and he replaces the finger with his lips, softly and hesitantly pressing them against mine. When he pulls away, he leans in to my ear. “I was just kidding hugbug; Velma’s dead. To Icarus, but still dead.” He doesn't seem to be going into cardiac arrest after this kiss so maybe the goat thing or him taking control or both mellowed him out a little. I don't mind either option; I can be a dumbarse and I can let him take control in these situations. 

          “Then yeah we're boyfriends.” I stare him down. “That's pretty gay.”


	3. The Gaytekeeper

          The next morning, after a long evening of trying (and failing) to convince Hugo to eat dinner with me and a hell of a lot of shitty comedy cartoons-that he seems to live for-Hugo’s uncle arrives. I manage to slip away quietly enough, getting off with just a mild ‘hey how are you?’ from him and Hugo desperately waving me away. 

 

          ME: So how is he? Are you staying at the house or moving to his?

          I send him a message before doing a big drive to school.

 

          “Briannnn.” AJ is waiting for me at the school gates. “We were supposed to work on Art together yesterdayyy.” He takes my elbow and shakes it as we walk. “I'm behind nowww, don't you check your Instagrammm?” I unlock my phone and open Instagram.  _ No connection. _

          “Oh yeah shit I was on Do Not Disturb mode.” I take the data condom off and a literal flood of messages from AJ pours in. And a text from Doc. ‘Brian answer your fucking Instagram, AJ is trying to rope me into helping him with art but I'm about as artistic as your left sock’ as well as a few from mum and dad wishing Hugo all the best and a ‘you succ’ from Danny, accompanied by a picture of the succulent I found on my desk this morning. “Oh I see.”

          “Oh he sees now does he?” AJ keeps being a drama queen as we walk to our break time seating.

          “Sorry AJ, some stuff went down on the weekend.” I plop my ass onto the wooden bench and my bag on the table (my head on the bag) and look up at him. He instantly sobers up. 

          “Are you okay? Are you safe?” He furrows his brow in concentration. 

          “I'm fine AJ, it's Hugo stuff. He's in a lot of all kinds of pain right now and I was helping out a little over the weekend.” AJ presses his lips together.

          “Can I do anything?”

          “Nah dude, it's all a waiting game right now.” Oh shit schoolwork. “Actually, do you have any classes with him?”

          “Yeah I'm Chem, I'll ask what Doc has with him. I'll get the classwork to you and you can pass it on?”

          “That'd be really really great.” I turn my head back to its normal position.

 

          “Life sucks and I wish I was dead.” Doc drops his bag onto the table.

          “Do you have any classes with Hugo Tran?” AJ asks for me.

          “Yeah, English, Eco and Science Extension.” He sits down next to me. “Why?”

          “Can you get the notes and homework to me?” I sit up and dig out my water bottle and suck the water up just as Darya slips herself into the seat next to me with a hair flick worthy of the gods. 

          “Yeah dude, is he aight?” Doc looks even more concerned than AJ. I shrug in response and turn to Darya and she mouthes 'maths with Millie'. I nod and text Hugo that his notes for school are sorted. 

          “Oh, y'all know how I'm bi and stuff?” They exchange confused glances. “I kinda have a boyfriend now.”

          “Oh my god what!?” AJ jumps up and runs up to hug me. “Holy shit Brian fuck yeah! Who is it? Do we know him? Can we meet him?” I giggle as he squishes me to the point of near asphyxiation and Darya Russian-giggles (her words not mine) and flashes me a thumbs up.

          “I have to ask him if y'all can know who he is so hold up with the questions, but he's really cute and funny and sweet and caring and he's our age so y'all don't have to worry about the predators and stuff.”

          Darya (okay she prefers Dasha so yeah) turns to me. “Online or in person?”

          “In person.”

          “It’s Hugo.” Doc nods at AJ and AJ grins super wide and high fives Dasha. 

          “Oh hell to the yeah, he's gonna be real good to you.” I flip the both of them off, to which I get a self-satisfied grin from AJ and a middle finger right back from Doc.

          “I hate all of you.” I say with a squint at them both individually. “Please don't spread it around?”

          “Dude, your secret is a hundred percent safe with us, right kiddos?” Doc waves a ;imb in the direction of the incomplete Squad.

          “I will stab anyone who tells.”

          “Yeah mate, we won't tell, I swear.” AJ grins at me for a few seconds. 

          “What?” I groan out and he giggles. I meet eyes with Doc and mouth ‘What the fuck’ to him. He rolls his eyes and shrugs. 

          “So how did it happen? How long have you guys been together?”

          “Um, a goat sacrifice to Artemis and one to Icarus and not that long.” Doc nods and goes on his phone like a true gen z kid. He texts ‘Keep me posted on Hugo, we've bitched about teachers together before’. I flick my eyes at him then straight back to my phone and slide them shut for a second as our sign of agreeance.

          “Boooring. I'm bored. Doc, I'm bored tell Brian that I'm bored.”

          “AJ is bored Brian.” Doc says in a monotone voice without looking up from his phone. “You better do something about that.” 

          “I'm good.” I also go on my phone as I too am a gen z kid. Hugo texted me for the first time in like five months. _ ‘im moving to his house down the street’ ‘he seems nice enough rn time will tell tho’ _ . I smile and text back a  _ ‘Be safe hug bug’ _ as AJ melts onto the table. I text Doc  _ ‘Hugo is okay rn’ _ . Doc doesn’t look up but nods directly at his phone. We either look at each other or nod, never both at once as that defeats the purpose of secret communication. Obviously.  _ ‘i’ll try and im at school tmr but not today can you get hw for me pls?’ _

_           ‘AJ and Doc are on it and Dasha and Millie are getting the maths for you' _

_           ‘omg thank you<33 and meth sux anyways’ _

_           ‘Meth?’ _

_           ‘i said what i said and i will stand by it’ ‘like my ugly kid’ _

_           ‘You have kids?’ _

_           ‘yeah seven of them’ ‘all are ugly’ _

_           ‘Well that complicates the relationship I'm not ready for kids’ _

_           ‘oh no they all just died in a fire how unfortunate’ ‘shouldnt you be in class rn’ _

_           ‘Uh no two minutes left ffs Hugo’ _

_           ‘ugh fine i’ll leave first i need to pack yeehaw byeee’ _

_           ‘byeee<3’ _

Doc looks at me and rolls his eyes as I emerge from communication with Hugo which never ceases to amuse me. "Ugh you're so gay Brian.” He smirks.

          “Uh yeah you can’t say that you're straight, also I'm bisexual  _ stop bi-erasing me.”  _ I dramatically yell the last bit and Doc rolls his eyes (I swear he can’t express any other emotion).

          “Oopsie poopsie soz hon.” He rolls- nope it's just gonna be ‘does the thing’ now I don't wanna keep saying the phrase, it's already gotten stale. He does the thing and goes back to his phone just as the bell goes for first period. “Aight I'm in torture.” Doc starts to walk away after grabbing his bag. 

          “Same.” AJ frowns and starts gently poking me in the ribs. 

          “Yeah we're next door right?”

          “Yeah I'll tell Doc to take the notes for Hugo okay?” He closes his eyes and flips a peace sign just like an anime girl. “Good, very very good notes I promise.”

          “Ugh go eat some cake and shut up you adorable shit.” I ruffle his gelled back hair.

          “Heyyyyy stop it!” He pretend glares at me  and I stick my tongue out at him. He pulls out a tiny comb and starts to comb his hair back to its usual state of perfection. “How am I gonna find me a cute guy if my hair is a mess?”

          “How are you gonna find you a cute guy if  _ you're _ a mess?” I smirk and he gives me the faux-offended hand-over-heart gasp. “You're such a disaster gay AJ.”

          “Just because my mental state is a mess doesn’t mean my hair is allowed to be one too.” He spots his class trickling into the room and gasps. “Ooh shit see you Bri.” He sends me a grin and jogs to the classroom just in time for his teacher, some new guy like Mr Chaplin or Chambers or something, to give him and me a disapproving look. I nod for dominance and slip into my classroom for less dominance.

 

          "Okay English sucks." AJ yells out as he walks into the classroom for the rest of the depressed kids™. I meet stares with Mr Pantilla, the emotionally burnt out husk of an art teacher. He mouthes a "he's right" at us all.

          "I mean English is a  _ great _ subject and all of you  _ clearly _ love it." He says with that put on exaggerated professorial tone. "Um, prac today, I know it's a single but the deadline is coming up so… yeah." He shrugs. "Settle in, I'll come around in five minutes." 

          AJ slides onto his stool next to me. "Okay, my best bro, my dude, my fam. I need deets." He sighs and pulls out his process diary. "Ever since Evan moved away and broke my fucking heart I've been really down on the whole romance thing and would like some cheering the heck up."

          "Um… it's really not my place to tell-" His eyes light up, but in fear.

          "Oh nah, nah mate I'm just interested in how he makes you feel, how y'all interact, I don't want you to tell me anything he wouldn't want you to." I breathe an obvious sigh of relief and pull out my etching slides, my face physically relaxing. "Oh wow it's that good huh?"

          "Huh? AJ, what? I haven't even said anything yet."

          "Ugh your face went all sappy and love hearts started spouting out of your mouth." I scoff and move my hand to ruffle his hair again. He retracts his head like a tortoise and hisses, pointing that finger of his at me. "Don't you dare Lovey McLoveEyes or I claw those love eyes out of your skull." He squints and honest to God I can't tell if he's joking. I retract my hand, accepting defeat. "Good, good." He draws out and changes right back to normal, bubbly AJ. "Now give me some romance, I'm all dry here."

          I smile softly at my slides and start marking out one design, a patterned bee with a flower. "Like… He makes me feel like I'm… floaty, like he's what matters and he is that place where I'm safe and nothing can hurt me." 

          "That's the gayest thing I've ever heard and I'm the gay prefect. The gatekeeper of gay and protector of the little gays."

          "You could say you're the...gaytekeeper aha ha ha ha!" I clearly enunciate each 'ha' and finger gun wave at him and he looks dead. I shot him with my finger guns. He breathes out a soft 'fuck'.

          "Brian I can't deal with your chaotic aries bi dad-ness."

          "Whoa who's Brian? I'm  _ Bi _ an!" The girl who had the misfortune to choose a seat near us looks like she'd just seen a ghost. The humour that I literally just killed apparently visited her.

          "Brian! I. am. Going to.  _ Cry. _ "

          "I'm not sure you wanna go there; it's pretty wet this time of year." Holy shit he's actually dead. I poke him. "You're just salty because your puns aren't as good as mine." He opens his mouth to protest I guess but then promptly shuts it.

          "Yeah you right." He grins and opens up his laptop for 'reference pictures'.


	4. The Bushland Reserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for drugs, anorexia and lovey mcloveeye's comeback

          My room is bigger now. A single bed fits comfortably by the window with the desk right nearby and the chest of drawers the holds all my kondo-folded articles of clothing sits with a satisfied smirk by the study desk. This is safer, softer, kinder, than mother’s house with sterile bleach white walls and dettol and alcohol seeping into them. This is a warm tan with vanilla drifting in the air. Safer. Warmer. I slip into the bathroom, uncle already at work, in his research laboratory for communications with England I think it is today. 

          I shuck my sleep clothes into a small pile on the bathroom floor and start myself a shower. Scalding hard jets pummel my chest as I lather on the gratis vanilla scented body wash and shampoo into my hair and body. It’s peaceful, like the jets are carving out all the rot and disease that’s latched onto me and vanilla soothing the raw edges with soft caresses. I allow myself to relax and feel my body melt. Once the shower has completed its task, I step out onto the cold tile of the bathroom. Uncle has a full length mirror on his wall just like mother had so it’s easy enough to assess progress or regression. Today appears a day for the former, however small, however insignificant the progress, I appear smaller and more insignificant. I step onto the scale. 57.8.  _ Okay 78 brain, remember that we’re at 78 today and log it into your app. It’s disgusting Hugo, you’re pathetic, if you gain any more weight you’ll be higher than twenty and you’re not allowed to go above twenty, how dare you. _ I towel dry the hair and apply the styling mousse to make my hair into the perfect little quiff. I could probably rival AJ’s hair with this one if I’m honest, it’s looking fly af.  _ ‘Are you at school today hugbug?’ _

_           ‘i will be in like twenty mr perfect attendance police’ _

_           'AJ was being a sook about you in art, answer his messages you frick’ _ I check my phone for any texts from the cool neato dude.

_           ‘uh no texts from mr perfect hair police’  _

_           ‘He doesn’t text anymore he’s on insta messaging now bc idek why just tell him you’re alive’ _ after a message to AJ of  _ ‘yeet’ _ Bri texts another thing.  _ ‘Oh I also told them we’re together I hope it’s aight’. _

_           ‘Okay, I‘ll see you at school Brian.’ _ I hope that tone shift conveyed to him just how not aight that was. That little dickhead, for fuck’s sake Brain. 

_           ‘I’m sorry shit hugbug I thought you would be okay with it’. _ I don’t answer because I’m a spiteful prick and want to make him stew. How do I face AJ and Doc and Amelia and Dasha? They know this shit now, and there’s no way of taking it back.  _ Break up with Brian. _ No not gonna do that.  _ Isolate yourself for another day, the school will be okay with it; they know Mother died.  _ Now that is an idea. Some DXM sounds great right about now. I take out my phone to log my weight. I’ve lost three kilos over the past three days.  _ This is why we need to kill our parents a little more often. Five more parents and we’re at our goal.  _ Shut up David you suck eggs. I mess up my hair and slide the scale back under the cupboards where Uncle keeps it. I slide back into bed and pull out the bottle of cough syrup I’ve already stashed away. I drink half, the taste somehow less sickening straight from the bottle than from the measuring cups. I remember once I bought the wrong kind and it had paracetamol in it but I only realised when I had already bought it and tore the paper baggy. I, being the stubborn peep I am still drank it. I had half and the paracetamol would have only been 58.5mg per kilo of my body mass, nowhere near enough to worry about, but I was high and three hours later, after coming down a little, I decided that 'fuck it I wanna be high again'. Long story short I was rushed to hospital because I was vomiting blood and stuff. This one is the normal one, the non paracetamol one which means I'll be safe. Safer, at the very least than I was with the other one.

          Here hits the instant wave of nausea after drinking something as disgusting as pure cough syrup. I drink a little bit of water, swish it around my mouth as a palate cleanser and I feel better. I squish my perfectly done hair onto my pillow and plug in my earphones. Hozier, my good dude, takes me to church and then Daughter tells me the horrors and pain of living.

 

          I come down from the haze only around one in the afternoon, tear streaks adorning my pale face. I stand up and the world twists so I have to grab on to my bed to regain balance. I make my way to the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look absolutely,  _ delightfully  _ broken. My cheekbones are coming in nicely and my skin has lost any colour or tone and my drying tears catch the light just so. My lips are dry, bitten to all hell, bleeding just a little bit and I love it. I look like one of those edgy tumblr girls. I take a photo, a few actually, enough to capture the true 'tortured artist' vibe I've got going on. I look fragile. I look broken. Is it sick that I'm satisfied? I take out my phone. I'm not thin enough for this to go on my tumblr, but perfectly 'normal' (weight-wise at least) for Instagram. I post it to my story and let it sit for a while. AJ messages me within five minutes. _ 'Hugo are you okay??? Not at school again??? Bri is so worrieddd' _ I want to tell him. I want to tell him the pain I'm in and I want him to fix it. I want to tell him that I haven't eaten since mother died. I want to tell him that I'm being a dickhead to Brian for control. It's only a few more minutes until my phone starts buzzing with a phone call. It’s Brian, or, alternatively, one of the two people alive who I’d accept a phone call from, so I slide the green button across.

          “Hugo, what the actual fuck?” He sounds angry. Well… not angry, but irritated. I feel my heart start to pound, my chest tightening. “I tell you one thing,  _ one thing _ that was important for me to share with our friends, and you shut me out, skip school and then- and then post this? Hugo, I’m shitting myself, I’m so worried about you, and you just shut me out?”

          I feel the blood rush to my  cheeks. Fuck. I told him I loved him, I told him that he was important to me and didn’t care enough to talk this out? “I- I’m sorry Bri, but why would you tell them that we’re dating? Or that we’ve ‘gotten together’ or whatever, without at least warning me? I got scared and- and I don’t know how else to cope.” I’m tearing up and my voice cracked a little bit at the end, how is he going to take me seriously?

          “And listen, I get that. Like seriously I  _ get _ it.” He sighs and a tear spills  But if we’re gonna date we need to talk. I’m sorry I didn’t confer with you before telling our friends. I didn’t expect them to guess it was you I was dating so quickly, I thought we’d have some time.” 

          I give a small laugh. “Brian we have  _ Doc _ in the squad, that dude’s a  _ genius _ .” I try to say it jokingly and I hear a little huff of laughter.

          “Yeah, but  _ I _ am not a genius.” I smile softly. “Are we okay?”

          “Yeah.” I swallow hard. “Thank you Bri.”

          “Just… Let’s keep our communication open. I don’t wanna have things I do behind your back and I don’t want you to have things you do behind my back. I love you and you’re my best friend, and now we’re going out and you have so much shit going on, I just want to make sure neither of us get hurt, okay? I don’t wanna ruin us.”

          “I love you too Brian.” I whisper into the phone and he huffs again.

          “Aight, I need to pack because lunch is gonna be over soon. Do you wanna hang out after school?”

          “Yeah but I have dinner with Tony at six, he’s gonna pick me up and Sam is gonna be home soon, so we can’t hang out at my house and I’ll need to get back by five thirty to get ready.”

          “I can pick you up and we can just hang out at like… the bushland reserve place?” He sounds so awkward, like scared that I’ll say no to something that sounds so awesome.

          “Hell yeah dude I’ll bring a thermos. Go to class now though.” I drag out the ‘though’ and we exchange short ‘see you later’s.

 

          I told him to pick me up at my old house. Sam is Mother’s brother, it’s just as likely that he’s a racist or a homophobe or something else equally shitty, and until I know his stance, I will keep being careful. I need to protect Bri from my shitty family. Bri pulls up at three ten to find me standing like a cool dude™ with my earphones plugged in and ‘bad guy’ by Billie Eilish playing. “Hey cutie, climb in.” He rolls down his window and unlocks the door for me to climb in. I smirk at him as I click in my seatbelt.

          “Hey babe, been watching teen shows?” He shrugs with a smooth glance back to check for additional drivers that could ram us up the ass, well, the boot, the trunk, etc, I dunno I’m scared of being rammed by a big scary car.

          “Uh yeah dude, I love me some… Teenage wolf, and the rivertown and… and um… Okay I literally only just watched all of Sanders Sides and now there’s a void and it needs to be filled.”

          We proceed to discuss Sanders Sides in great detail, with him making damn sure that it was ingrained in me that I am literally Virgil and that he’s just Thomas but bi and not gay. I try to fill his void with fan theories and ships, and he changes his main side to be Roman and his side side to be Patton because I complained ‘too much’ that Thomas isn’t a side and hence not appropriate to be ‘the side I identify most with’. (But he literally isn’t soo… I’m right). (Also Prinxiety for the win, like come on, enemies to lovers with a hella lot of angst is the perfect ship.) When we finally get to the reserve twenty minutes later, we lay out our picnic blanket from the backseat onto our spot under a willow and near the lake. I pour myself some tea and straighten out my legs and he lies down onto my lap. 

          “Fair warning, it is very possible that I will drip and/or splash some really hot tea onto your face by accident, I promise it isn’t on purpose, I love you sweetie.” I mutter down to him.

          “Nah it’s aight I like green tea.” He smiles and flashes me a peace sign. I finish my tea and start playing with his hair while still looking out onto the lake. Some fish leapt out of the water, the ducks are swimming across the top of the lake and land birds are making pretty chirps nearby. “Okay, I have a thing I’d like to settle.” Brian says suddenly and I look down to see a genuinely concerned face.

          “Shoot kiddo.”

          “Okay don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t… I don’t know if ‘love’ is the perfect word to describe and encapsulate my feelings for you. Like the connotations are all like… ooh sex and romance and ‘life partner’ but I don’t think that’s what I feel for you right now. Like I love you… but in a different way? I guess?"

          I think for a moment. "I get that. Like I'm not sure if you're 'the one' and all that jazz, but since we are friends, like best friends… I already love you in that way? So it was way easier for me to say the love thing really early." I smirk and keep softly playing with his hair. "Like when you told me that you love me, I was all like 'yeah dudebro we're bros'. But like… think about it, we were already acting like a couple, we just didn't realise it. Like normal, uninvolved queer folk dudebros don't like… cuddle in the same bed at night, you know? Like… we were kinda naturally dating but kinda pretending it's all platonic?" He looks thoughtfully up at me. "But I do love you and treasure you and want to have you in my life forever if I can, and isn't that love?"

          "Well yeah, of course it is, but isn't it like a lesser love? Like yeah you love your friends and I love my family but isn't the main goal a romantic or sexual love?" I cup his cheek and he gently places his hand on top of mine.

          "Well, I have two rebuttals. The concept of there existing a lesser love doesn't really sit right with me, like I see where you're coming from, because, yes, that is how society views love, but I'm a left wing gay so my opinion is as follows." He looks at me intently as I try to fold my thoughts into a concise little paper plane I can deliver to him. "I think that there are many types of love and that none are lesser… just… different. The Ancient Greeks believed there were eight types; they were Eros, the sexy times love, Ludus, the puppy love with new couples, Mania, an obsessive imbalance of Eros and Ludus, Philos, platonic love, Agape, deeper and broader platonic and brotherhood love for  _ all _ people, Storge, family love, Philatia, self love, and Pragma, the enduring, mature version of Ludus. Like Mania isn't an ideal form of love, but it isn't lesser either. Like for me, I think I feel very strong Philos and normal Ludus and a little bit of Eros for you. The love that is associated with the word 'love' between unrelated or dating people I think is Pragma, or Eros. But all the other types of love are just as important." He looks at me in awe. Like I'm the smartest person he's ever met. Like I'm a philosopher with a breathtaking new idea. "And… And um… sex isn't the purpose of life because as you know, aroace people exist and they don't want a romantic or sexual relationship."

          He doesn't speak for a solid minute before taking a deep breath. "So… I dunno Hugo, that was awesome. With… with that theory on love I'm on around the same levels of love you're on for me." I smile and softly stroke his cheek with my thumb. 

          "Do you wanna have little codes for these then? Japanese has four words for love so we can too." He grins and I see his adorable little dimples. 

          "Hells yeah!" I huff in laughter and give him a small smile. "D'you wanna save 'I love you' for the enduring one?"

          "That's all g with me kiddo." I think for a little bit. "Let's do 'dudebro' for Philos." He snorts. 

          "Yes. A hundred and ten out of ten yes." He grins and sits up. "Let's not do anything for eros or or the puppy love one yet though? Like with Eros we can literally just do sex jokes and the puppy one something like those cheesy couple nicknames." I grin back. The water of the lake is calm and ants crawl around on the plaid flanelette blanket and I watch him get up and walk around collecting stuff while I pour myself another cup of tea. One wildflower bunch from a blushy Brian later and we're on our backs on the blanket, holding hands and watching the clouds go by. "That one looks like Pepe." Brian points at a passing cloud that I note down as indeed resembling Pepe and he giggles. I turn onto my side to look at him properly. 

          "You're beautiful Bri, you know that, right?" The words slip out before I can stop them and in such a soft voice too holy shit. He blushes a little and brings his hand up to hide his mouth. "Like absolutely radiant." I move a little closer to him, radiating full on Top™ energy while he acts more sub. Are we really both switches?  _ Fascinating _ . I take a hold of his wrist and gently pull it away and I see his lips are just slightly parted, parted just enough to release a few soft breaths. His eyes flick down to my lips and then straight back to looking straight into my eyes with doe-like terror. His tongue darts out to wet his lips just a tiny bit and  _ what no I'm not fixated shut up David _ . "C-can I?" I whisper and he gives a soft nod and I lean in to just softly brush my lips against his and I feel his shaky breath escape his lips. He cups my cheek with one hand and I place mine onto his waist. I press my forehead against his and just listen to him breathe. "I'll be at school tomorrow. I'll be a good kid." I feel his lips form a smile. 

          "Good. But let's focus on right now hug bug. I think we have more cuddling to do if I'm totally honest.” We indeed do cuddle a while longer and he so graciously allows me to lay my head on his chest and I just listen to his heartbeat and hold him as he strokes my back and holds me, us both in complete silence, not wanting to break out of this bubble of golden sunlight and glimmers of green-tinted water and  _ us _ , but my alarm goes off at five fifteen pm exactly. I groan and bury my face in his chest hoping that if I pretend I didn’t hear it, it will go away, but Bri pats my back and starts to stand up. “Come on Hugo, Tony dinner time.” I groan again and roll off him, dramatically hiding my face, and he takes it upon himself to pepper my hands with kisses and I smirk behind my hands and eventually reveal myself again. 

          “Brian this is really gay what the fuck?” He grins and I stand up and he starts to clean off the blanket.

          “Nah mate, we’re just bros, dude, what d’you mean?” He folds the blanket enough to finally pick it up without dry grass and bindis to litter the backseat of his car. He walks me over to the car and chucks the blanket into the back. His face gets serious. “Are you okay with having dinner with Tony? I’m sorry, I just kinda assumed you were but-” His voice is deeper and he furrows his brows together and I just want to hug and kiss him and tell him that everything will be okay.

          “No, I’m fine, I’m all good Bri, I’m actually, like, excited, I miss him a lot.” I seat myself into the front seat next to Bri and seatbelt up, feeling a warm glow kinda,  _ like it sounds cheesy, but that’s the best descriptor.  _ “Back when… yeah, when I lived with Tony, he used to try and teach me piano, so now I know how to play some anime OSTs on it. He is like, seriously a lovely, amazing, super sweet dude and I really really love him but when I had to move back in with Mother, I wasn’t allowed to talk to him anymore. He’s still making an effort though, and that makes me really happy because… I dunno, it just does.” Bri drives us along the streets rather than the motorway, since it’s getting pretty late and the busy important business people will be congesting the motorway. 

          “I’m really happy for you Hugo.” He gives me a small glance and smiles at the road as he reaches out for my hand and holds it as he keeps driving. “You really do deserve to be happy and safe Hugo, you’re so strong and smart and beautiful, you really do deserve it.” I  _ melt _ . I absolutely  _ melt _ into his words and he knows it, the smirking little shit. 

          "You're a shithead." He giggles and smirks, continues to just drive with my hand still in his. I roll my eyes and look out to my window, watching the houses that we pass by until he parks out front of Mother's house.

          "Be safe, remember I care about you, I'm only a phone call away if you need me." I smile and he kisses my hand. I don't want to go. I don't wanna leave and dive into the unknown. I want to just cuddle with him and watch the Simpsons. I want to hold him or have him hold me and I want to stay safe with him. If only I could just live with him. I just want to be safe and be sure I’m safe every night I come home. I want to not have to deal with uncertainty. 

          But I have to.

          So I do.

 

          After dinner with Tony at the new Italian place (he offered Indian but there’s too much oil and fat and rice in that store because they only focus on fast food), I feel sick. There’s a salad without dressing in me, and I can feel it rot into my body. I could barely hold a conversation from the smell of the bread rolls and pasta from his plate. I can’t even remember what we spoke about but I remember eating a few leaves of lettuce and some slices of cucumber and fixating on them. After five days of near continuous fasting, (sans the cough syrup), I feel, correction,  _ felt _ , euphoric. I could do  _ anything _ . Now I’m emptier than I was when I was starving. 

          I walk into the house and tear up at the smell of whiskey, the vanilla now only suffocating me with the sickly, sticky sweetness and I realise that it isn’t a welcome, but a jail cell. I’m trapped again and Brian was wrong; the pain isn’t worth it, the pain will never be truly worth it. I wave a hello at Sam and he lifts a whiskey glass with a kind smile and I slip into my room and sob as quietly as I can into my pillow and under my blanket, homework ignored and forgotten.

 

          I do end up coming to school the next day. I smile at Amelia, Dasha and Doc, and AJ wordlessly comes up to me and offers a hug, which I accept, remembering the two hour long text conversation we had about all my pain. I whisper “Thank you” to AJ, and as I sit down, leaning into AJ’s hug, his arm around my shoulder, I keep talking in a quiet voice. “My mother died over the weekend.” Amelia looks clearly and obviously shocked and Doc and Darya both seem to be hiding their shock pretty well. “I had to move in with my uncle and talk to the police, and it was a lot for me to handle, so I didn’t come to school.”

          “I’m really sorry Hugo.” Darya breaks the silence with a soft whisper and I nod, curling in closer to AJ. “Also yeah Bri and I are dating now and yeah, it’s all true.” Doc sighs and buries his face in his hands and runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry Doc, I know this is a lot to take in.” I’m tearing up while staring intently at one point on the table.

          “Hugo, I’m  _ always  _ here for you, we  _ all  _ are  _ always _ here for you, I’m just really worried.” I flick my eyes up at Bri and look away before I can read anything in his gaze. AJ keeps holding me and I rest my head against  AJ’s chest. “I’m sorry for dumping this on all of you.”

 

          It’s a double of maths first up, and I strangely enough can’t focus on Mrs Vidakovic’s explanations of trigonometric functions. I wish I could talk to Bri again, but just alone. I want to let him in and just… just make his worries go away.

          ‘<3’ I text him when Miss looks away and he texts the same heart back almost instantly. I turn to Dasha and she nods grimly. “Yeah no, I dunno what’s going on either.” 

          “We’re both fucked then, hey?” I mutter at her and she scoffs. Amelia though clearly knows what’s up and her notes are flawless as always. She looks over at us and raises an eyebrow with a clear smirk on her face. Dasha smirks back and Amelia nods. It seems like all of my friends have some sort of secret code with each other. Doc and Bri were really subtle about it, but I noticed while watching Bri before we… well, started dating. 

          “Hugo, do you wanna try question eighteen for us?” I get up and try to answer it in a way that will guarantee me not having to drop out of extension maths.

 

          Everything has gone by  so quickly. It’s like someone hit the gas after Mother died. Before I really realise what’s going on, I’m already back at Sam’s house, the vanilla still sickly sweet. He’s orchids on the table again. Crisp, white orchids in a fresh pot. So he’s home. I squeeze my bag strap tighter, hoping that he isn’t drinking. I try to make my way into my room as quietly as I can and he’s sitting in my chair, looking through my books. “H-hi?” I stammer out.

          “Hey. I was just seeing what you read.” I stare at him for a few seconds and flinch when he stands up. “All stupid books if I’m honest, I don’t know why you bother.” He walks past me, my body tensed up and he drops ‘Alone on a Wide Wide Sea’ by Michael Morpurgo onto the hardwood next to my foot. My favourite book. I take a deep breath and wait until he leaves to pick the book up. I climb into bed and scroll Tumblr with pictures of pretty, really thin people and wishing I was like them. The memes help too.


	5. Taboobies

          I asked Hugo out on Friday. Something like ‘hey, do you wanna go watch a movie? It’s a cool movie. And I’m a cool dude. And we’re dating. And you don’t have to. But I was-’ (he didn’t let me finish the ‘was’ bit because he laughed and said a ‘yeah mate let’s gooo’). Hence here we are, waiting in line to actually get the tickets. 

          “You know, I wanna watch something that’s just really funny. I may be an edgelord, but humour is pretty lit.” I snort and he looks to be pretty pleased with himself as he links arms with me. I’ve already decided that I’ll be treating Hugo to a hella fun free ticket since he’s already really stressed with moving house and stuff. And today is one week since his mother’s death. We move up in line again.

          “I’ll get us the tickets okay?” He glares at me in that same way he did when I told him that I didn’t put on a jacket to go to the beach last winter (‘for fuck’s sake Brian’ he drew out the ending of my name ‘take care of yourself’ and the ‘f’ at the end of ‘yourself’) “Uh- no no no, no complaints from you little sir, you’re my boyfriend now and this is our first real, official date and since I’m taller, I’m officially the guy in the relationship.” I tease and he crinkles his nose pretty forking violently.

          “We’re both the guy in the relationship.” He says in his squeaky, scratchy goblin voice and I grin.

          “That’s pretty gay Hugo.” He does a cat meme face, like retracted head, squished up neck and mouth open in disgust and I’m laughing my head off at this point.

          “How durst thou?” He exclaims in a voice a little too loud for the theatre hall and we get a few ‘what the  _ actual _ fork’ looks from our audience. “How durst thou?” He whispers and surprisingly, the whisper sounds even more offended. “I’m buying you food then you little shit because we both know I’d top at least once.” I giggle and he seems satisfied with my lack of protest. 

          When we actually make it into the theatre, I’m holding a box of popcorn and he’s carrying our beverages. I got a Fanta because it’s sweet and orange-y and he got his usual Coke Zero. I feel like I’m grinning like an idiot, but I don’t even care, because I’m with Hugo, and we can just spend time together without the pressure of him having to be home by five thirty in the afternoon. I get to hold his hand (well not right now, but like… in general) and I get to make him smile and laugh. We take our seats in the cinema and the armrests, by some act of God, are adjustable so he swings the one between us all the way up and scoots over closer to me. I drape an arm over his shoulders and he leans against my own shoulder. He’s laughing at the movie and he seems happy. How does he seem so happy even through his mother’s death? How does he manage to still smile when he’s lived through what he’s living through? I press a kiss to the top of his head and he looks up. I smile softly at him and he relaxes again, and we finish the movie with only laughter and him shifting in my arms for comfort purposes I assume. I shift my attention and watch the movie instead of him and yeah, it's pretty funny. Spies being bad at being spies is perhaps a slightly overused trope but like, I still can and will defend it to my death. Upon leaving the theatre, Hugo imitates the main character, Rebecca Mebecca, in her scene of failing to seduce a fellow bad spy and I literally snort with laughter and he grins, absolutely radiant at my reaction. “Aight, do you want to grab a bite to eat?” Hugo stiffens up for just a second and then smiles again.

          “Oh maybe not right about now? Like my abdomen physically aches from all the laughter, but I’ll buy you your food babe.” I nod.

          “I mean I can buy my own food, it’s all g, you bought us the drinks and the popcorn-”

          “Ah! Nope, we agreed that I’m buying you your food! This is still the date, so I am still buying you your food.” He shoves a finger in front of my mouth in a shushing motion and I giggle. 

          “Oh no look at the time I gotta get going.” I say in a very obviously scripted voice and spin around and pretend that I just saw him. “Oh, hey Hugo. Do you wanna go out? Like now?”

          “Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and slips his arm out from linkage with mine.

          “Nooo, Hugo.” I reach out to grab his hand and he spins back into my arms, the ballroom dancing lessons he took for those few years with his father coming back with a vengeance. We’re in public, but if we weren’t, I’d hug him. “Does that mean this is date two?”

          “Uh no, this is still date one,but act two, because you’re a little shit.” He smirks and rolls his eyes. I end up allowing him to buy me food, a sushi box and he picks at his McDonald’s garden salad.

 

          Around a month passes quietly enough, several assessments and several days of Hugo being shaky and anxious and several more of him being entirely absent from school. He’s visited me when my parents and my sister, Annabelle were out of the house, and when Sam was on a business trip. We would watch some Youtube videos on my bed or make out or just kinda do our own thing in a shared space. He was always doing some item of homework in that time and I’d play a video game half the time or do my homework a quarter of the time or just kinda observe him for the other quarter. He’s wasting away. His dark circles are permanent now, not at school, because he slathers concealer on, but when he stayed over I got to see just how bad they were getting. He’s pale, like really pale, and his only responses to my concerned comments Trojan Horse’d into vampire jokes were met with joke hisses. It guess it’s just the stress of the HSC.

          One of the nights he stays over, I spin my roll-y chair around to face him. “How would you feel about meeting my parents?”

          “Wait what?” He looks over at me, a tiny flash of panic evident in his eyes.

          “I just think… I don’t know, I guess… I just want to bring the four most important people in my life together.” Hugo looks over at me in shock, his legs crossed on my bed and laptop resting on his legs. “Like, you obviously don’t have to until you’re ready, I just… I just wanted to bring up the idea-”

          “No, no, I’d love to. Like I’d actually genuinely, honestly  _ love _ to.” He pushes his laptop shut and gracefully stands up off my bed. “I just… I dunno, do you really think they’d wanna meet  _ me _ ?” He walks over to me and I take him by the waist and sit him onto my lap.

          “Of course they would Hugo. You’re, firstly, my hug bug, and secondly my dudebro, so  _ of course _ , they’d love you.” He shivers at my rumble and presses his forehead against mine, a gentle, soft hand resting on my nape.

          “When?” He mutters, and I feel the heat radiating off his face from here.

          “Um… This Tuesday?”

          “Sounds perfect Bri.” He leans a little closer to brush his lips against mine. I smirk against them and kiss him softly, his fingers tracing the back of my head as I do, and my hands gingerly holding his waist. He pulls away. “That’s really gay mate; me meeting your parents?”

          “Yeah, my sister too, mate.”

          “Okay but Annabelle sounds like my kinda person, mate.”

          “She’s everyone’s kinda person, mate.” He giggles and nuzzles my nose with his. “You’re fucking adorable holy crapoly.” He giggles again and goddang, his giggles are literally heaven, and I feel like I’m getting drunk on them.

 

          “Mother?” I plop down next to her on the couch and she puts her phone down and looks over at me.

          “Yes son? How long do we have? Did you put the body on ice?” I suck my teeth and wince.

          “Oh no, I  _ knew  _ I forgot something.” She shrugs.

          “I’ll send postcards, maybe some photos of Belle’s wedding.” She keeps a straight face only until she looks at me and the sobriety falls right off and she giggles, making me laugh too, goddang it Mother. “Okay, what’s up?”

          “Okay… So… I’m seventeen now…” She nods primly.

          “Agreed.”

          “There’s this person… I’ve been kinda dating and I’d like y’all to meet him.” She’s  _ beaming _ .

          “Oh my, my little Brian is growing up, already has a boyfriend, will soon move away and leave his mother alone and childless.” She pokes me with her index finger with each question. “Is he cute? Is he good to you? How old is he? Is he still at school?”

          “Very, extremely, turning eighteen, and yeah, we have Physics together.”

          “This is adorable, oh my god, I’m having a coronary from all the adorableness.” I roll my eyes as she clutches at her heart, movements as extra as ever.

          “So um… is Tuesday okay for you? And dad? And Belle?” 

          “I’m good, I can ask your dad, and you can ask Belle?” I flash her a thumbs up and she pulls me into a hug. She lowers her voice. “I’m really happy you trusted us enough to not freak out.” 

          “Of course mum, you’ve  _ always _ been great, there’s been no reason for me to have to worry.” I hug her back, really tight and whisper at her.

          “I both can and  _ will _ make an absolutely  _ gargantuan _ deal of you having a romantic person though. So, do we wanna have Thai take-away?”

          “Um… I um, he gets really anxious… with eating in front of new people, so if we could have like… light evening teatime?” She smiles softly.

          “Yeah, we can do that.” Just as she says that, the front door opens and dad walks in, his work satchel hanging heavy by his side. “Yo Mike!” She calls out and he waves with a tired grin.

          “Hey Ell.”

          “Do you wanna tell him or should I?” She mutters under her breath at me.

          “Have fun.”

          “Brian has a boyfriend!” She exclaims and dad drops his bag and practically bounds at us.

          “Holy shit-I mean crap-that’s awesome kiddo!” He has no more tiredness left and he just grins. “I’m so proud of you ohmygosh.”

          I smirk and hug him. “Tuesday okay? To meet him?”

          “Hell to the yeah.” He says as he hugs back. “I need a shower and like a nap, and I expect details from you at dinner when Belle is back from band.”

          “That is a good idea.” Mum nods with that put on sobriety again. Dad stands up with a proud smile and leaves me with a soft shoulder squeeze.

          “Aight, Imma go ‘do homework’ now, and I shall see you for dinner.” I arise and she huffs with laughter.

          “Alright son, you go ‘do homework’.” 

 

          At dinner time, I just rant about how perfect Hugo is and how smart he is and how caring and how funny and how quick he is. Belle rolls her eyes with a barely suppressed smirk. “Are we the gay family now?”

          Dad chortles, and Mum literally chokes on her green bean. Just as she recovers she looks over at Belle in mild shock. “Holy crap you’re right.” I roll my eyes and softly push Belle to assert older brother dominance.

          “Ha ha, we’re the gay family.” She mock-sings at me and I poke her side with a single finger.

          “We need to paint our entire house rainbow. The  _ entire  _ house.” Dad motions with his fork at the entire famalam and we all agree that yes, we need to paint our whole house rainbow.

 

          By Tuesday Hugo is still really nervous. Just as we’re about to get out of my car he takes my hand with a shaky grip. “Bri, I’m scared. I’m gay and your boyfriend person and what if they don’t like me because of it?” I smile softly at him and lean over the control panel in my car to give him a soft kiss. 

          “We don’t have a single straight and cis person in our house Hugbug. Like we literally were ‘seriously considering’ painting our house rainbow so everyone knows ‘oh that’s the gay black famalam’.” He giggles. “They’ll fucking love you Hugo.” He kisses me too and he’s smiling when he pulls away. 

          I hold his hand the entire walk up to my front door. Partly for his sake, mostly for mine. I knock and Mum opens the door in a full length Morticia Addams gown, bat wing sleeves included, and smirks. “Welcome Hugo Tran, we have been expecting you.” She sweeps a sleeve to motion behind herself, to the living room and I roll my eyes. 

          “She was a theatre kid and remains extra to this very day.” I nod to him with false solemnity and he nods back with put on confidence.

          When we’re all seated in the dimly lit (by none other than a fucktonne of candles) living room I notice that both Dad and Belle are absent. Belle is excused because she messaged us all that her bus was cancelled to come back from the library so she’ll be around fifteen minutes late (I reacted with a >:( ). “Mother dearest, where is Father?” She shrugs and Hugo looks slightly more relaxed sitting down than he did in my car. I squeeze his hand, still not having let go. He squeezes back.

          “Hey Ell, when’s Brian coming ba-?” Dad clicks on the living room light to illuminate his socks and sandals, khaki shorts and his ‘Taboobies’ shirt he made for his Art History class last year during their gender unit. “Oh I see.” He bites the carrot stick with the massive lump of hummus on it and starts chewing contemplatively, the hummus tub in his other hand. “Hi Hugo, I’m Mike Stanford. Is this shirt too offensive?” Hugo smiles warmly at Dad.

          “Hi Mike, and no, the shirt is pretty cool.” Hugo’s voice is warm and smooth and sweet, like milk with honey and fuck I think I like him even more now.

          Mum huffs with a soft laugh and starts blowing out the candles. “We won’t sacrifice you today then I guess.” She looks over at Dad. “Where’s our daughter?”

          “Um, she said she’ll be running late, don’t you read our group chat?” She unlocks her phone.

          “Oh. Oh, okay, sorry, the notification must have gotten lost. I'm just so popular." I huff and give Hugo’s hand another small squeeze, just for continued reassurance. “Well, I’m Eleanor Becker, but you can call me Ell.” Her theatre kid comes out again with the exact same extra movement that the Bandit King from ‘The Oregon Trail’ does when he says his title at the ‘Ell’. Dad brings out the kettle and tea cups and tea and light refreshments. When I said ‘light’ I meant ‘light’. They heard ‘a kilo of hummus, several villages worth of chopped up vegetables, enough biscuits for four, maybe five King Henry VIII dessert banquets and the entire ocean worth of boiled water in a kettle’. 

          Hugo instantly looks uncomfortable and I sit myself and him down onto a couch, running a soft, reassuring hand up and down his back and the discomfort eases slightly, a few of his knots untangling. I reach for a cup and pour myself a chamomile tea, one of the only teas we both like and let it brew. Mum and Dad both look a bit too awkward for my liking, but I want to wait for Belle before formal introductions. Belle bursts into the house just as I am taking a sip of my tea and offer some to Hugo who allows me to hold the cup as he takes his own sip. “Hii’msosorryi’mlateihatebuses.” She unceremoniously dumps her bag and shoes next to the family shoe dump and practically slides into the comfy chair she had claimed fourteen years ago.

          “Aight, we’re all here, finally.” I roll my eyes at Belle and she pokes her tongue out at me. “As all y’all know, I have a boyfriend, his name is Hugo Tran, and he’s the one I just almost spilled tea on.” I motion gently in his direction with the previously-tea-now-free hand and he gives a small wave. “This one here is my sister Annabelle Becker-Stanford.” I motion at Belle. “This is my mother Eleanor Becker, and that is my father Michael Stanford.” Belle pours herself a cup of mint green tea. 

          “So… Hugo Tran.” Belle narrows her eyes at him. “How old are you?”

          “Eighteen in June.”

          “Still in school?”

          “Yes, year twelve right now.” 

          “Prior convictions?”

          “None.” Belle seems satisfied and leans back in her armchair.

          Mum gives a soft huff of relief as Belle relaxes. “So Brian told us you can cook?”

          The rest of the evening is as perfect as I could’ve hoped for, Hugo eases into his normal joking manner and he and Belle seem to get along like two peas in a pod. We end up watching TV for a few hours after the conversations and Hugo leans onto me with my arm around his waist. I walk him out with one soft goodbye kiss and he flashes me a grin I haven’t seen on him for maybe nine months.

          “Bear, Hugo… Is he sick?” Dad looks at me with a soft concern spread on his face after Hugo leaves. “He… He’s so thin and he didn’t eat a thing while he was here.” I don’t answer, but purse my lips to stop the tears uncomfortably welling in my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao nah I ain't ending this on a sweet note


	6. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooft, physical abuse, lots of depression and angst

          I get back to Sam's house still grinning. Then I come in and I'm not grinning anymore. The smell of whiskey hits me almost instantly, as does a solid fist, hard enough to shove me right back against the door, black flowers blooming into my vision.  _ Fuck this is gonna bruise. _ I squeeze my eyes shut tight, anticipating the next strike. Instead, a whiskey-rotted whisper oozes into my ear. "Where were you?" I pause for a second, trying to let some, any, fresh air in. He doesn't wait for me and shoves me hard against the door, intentionally this time and I can't breathe again.

          "I'm sorry." I cough out and  _ fuck wrong answer. _

          " _ Where were you? _ " He hisses out and clenches a fist in my shirt.

          "A f-friend's house."

          "Well tell your f-friend to fuck off, you live here; there's no point in you burdening others for a night." He turns around and leaves, his heavy footsteps thudding up the stairs. I go to the freezer and pull out a small bag of peas. _If you ice it now, you'll reduce swelling significantly and possibly avoid bruising._ Funny how that works. I'm sure cave people didn't have access to frozen peas after a big fight, so how did we find out that ice is good for reducing swelling? It fucking aches, the pounding centered around a cheekbone that I will need to douse in concealer tomorrow morning or Brian will throw a _fit_. I take the peas to bed with me and hold them against my face with only light pressure. This is going to fucking suck in the morning.

 

          And yeah I was right. It sucks in the morning. Luckily enough for me, the bruising only really hit a space around the size of my index finger and it's turned into a kinda pretty shade of red. I think for just a split second that maybe I should leave it uncovered, to  _ prove  _ to people that I’m hurting, in the only way they know how to dissect. I don’t though. I know that I should tell someone, but I’ve already collected too many bruises to be taken seriously, and there’s no proof of the mental stuff anyways. I throw myself into my uniform, then apply all the makeup I need to to hide my agony. I take a deep breath and pretend to smile. I’m a good actor, I can pretend that I am still alive.

          I meet with Brian at the school gates, his grin from last night still clinging to his features. He reaches out a hand for me to take, and I only flinch a tiny bit. I flick my eyes up at him and he purses his lips, his eyes fixed into an expression of concern.

          “Hugo, did something happen?” I bring his hand up to my cheek, just below the bruise. 

          “No Bri, I’m fine, just a little over-caffeinated.” I smile fondly at him and he relaxes visibly.

          “I told you to stop chugging Rockstars before school.” He giggles and I smirk.

          “Yes, however, and here’s my counterpoint,” We start walking to the squad™’s dwelling place. “No.”

          “That’s fair.” 

 

          The day passes quietly, no massive dramas, just Darya saying some really weird shit that still makes me tear up with laughter. Bri laughs and I was so happy. Then AJ curls up to me and we cuddle and it’s like a switch is flipped. There’s no trigger, nothing happens, just a massive wave of depression, like crippling, immobilising depression strikes me hard, right in the gut. I plug in my earphones and carry on with the last two lessons of the day.

          I sob on my walk home, unashamed, not hiding anything and just sobbing. I smoke three cigarettes on my way, with my music blasting loud enough to warrant side-eyes from the strangers sharing my airspace.

          I jam the key into the front door. Sam left for Japan at four this morning with a muttered apology and a shrug. I’m alone for the next five days, and it’s a fucking blessing.

          I climb into bed, not bothering to wipe the tears from my face and put on my headphones, noise cancelling thank god and blast Hyper Chondriac Music for that lovely slow and agonising emotional torture. I don’t sob. I don’t cry out. I’m a grown up now and I must keep silent even though I feel like such a child. I take out my voice recorder, the one I use to feel heard during breakdowns, clear my throat and start speaking. “I want to bawl, I want to scream and I want to throw a fit because everything has already gotten too much and it’s surfacing but I don’t know what’s surfacing. Like I took all my pain and murdered it, bloodstains all over my body and wrapped its corpse in one of those resin drop cloths. I piled weights and rocks into the cloth with that corpse and tied it tightly into the resin with heavy rope and threw it out to sea. Now I’m floating on top of the sea, desperately trying not to drown while limbs and clots of decaying flesh float to the surface around me and they’re decayed enough for me to not recognise the face of what I slaughtered, but I remember whose face it carried and I can now only barely piece it together with the equivalent of one arm, one ear and  the feelings I had when I saw it worth of a face. 

          And I’m so tired. I’m exhausted but these are the best years of my life and how dare I complain? I know people who would kill to be my age so why am I complaining? Why can’t I just take a long walk outside in nature, or do something I love, or phone up a  _ dear  _ friend and tell them about these feelings I’m having? Why can’t I just be normal? What did I do to deserve these feelings? There must be something wrong with my morals, mother always told me. Maybe it’s karma for being ungrateful and not finishing my meals even though she’d check on my body once a week to make sure I wasn’t ‘too fat’. Maybe it’s because I got nineteen instead of twenty out of twenty for that English assignment in year seven and ‘didn’t work hard enough’. Maybe it’s because I’m gay. Maybe it’s because I started doing drugs again after Dad died because I couldn’t bear the pain of the memory of the blood in a slick sheen across the tiled floor and his eyes blown wide open in terror facing the roof of his store without a few Panadeine Forte pills. It has to be my fault though, any way I turn it, it always my fault, because I’m a narcissistic prick and everything is about me. It’s all me, me, me. And I hate it. I hate it all. I want to dig my nails into my flesh and tear it all off and I want to watch myself bleed out and I would do it all if it meant my dad could be happy and alive again. I would probably even do it if it meant nothing; if it’d just mean I could die and be free because I’m selfish enough to allow someone else to feel the brunt of Sam’s wrath and escape the stress of high school and leave Brian and narcissistic enough to believe that anything I could ever do could change anything. Narcissistic enough to believe Brian could ever love me and selfish enough to want it and stupid enough to accuse him of not.

          How can I be expected to do this? How do people expect me to survive? How does Brian not get tired of all my pain? How come this mask stays affixed to my features even as I fall apart, as I crumble into nothingness and keep screaming to others? I scream for help and the mask warps my voice to say ‘I’m fine’. I scream and the mask warps it to a song.  _ I am in agony.  _ **_Agony_ ** . Pure, unadulterated pain and I die every day that I live. I don’t care about school, my future, anything about myself because this disease has taken everything I wanted to keep. I wanted to have a future, I wanted to be alive and have a future and I was recovering from the depression and anxiety and the stress and personality disorders and then this disease struck and I must say that I’m impressed. The sheer volume of destruction it unleashed in the mere six months I’ve known it is astounding. Fascinating, if I may. My body has collapsed in on itself due to the sheer power of thoughts over a short span of time. Goodbye soccer, goodbye volleyball, goodbye school.  _ Fascinating _ .” I get a text. Brian. ‘Heyyy hugbug do you wanna go out? Like now-ish to the park??’  _ fascinating _ . Human behaviour and innate sixth sense for timing, the power of coincidence. I don’t respond and click the voice recorder off.

          I fell asleep. It’s fine. I wake up at nine in the evening and text a ‘aaaa sorry i fell asleep :(((‘ to Brian. It’s getting ridiculously easy to lie to him and pretend that I’m getting better. ‘sleep over tmr?’.

          He replies after half a Vine compilation. ‘Hell yeah hug bug and it okies :)))))’ I smile, kinda sad, because I wish he was here now, but he’s not.

 

          He parks his car at the shopping centre a fifteen minute walk from Sam’s house. I link my arm with his, needing the close contact to just  _ ground  _ me for once.

          When he walks in, I almost feel the air shift to a calmer one, the orchids restored to their true meaning. “I’m gonna shower first, we’re not planning on going anywhere are we?” I walk him to my room and he shakes his head.

          “Nah let’s just chill and watch Skins.” He smirks and yeets himself onto my bed. I take my pyjamas with me and have my lovely shower.

 

          I come back into the room, all fresh and warmed up and vanilla-ed from the shower and Brian is sitting, back toward me, on my bed. “Heeeyyyy Bri, sorry I took so long, I like long shower-” He turns around and I see his face. Puffy eyes, tears still in snail trails down his cheeks. I flick my gaze up and down his form. 

          “Is that-” I see the little black box in his hand. “Brian you had no right-”

          “Why didn’t you talk to someone? Why are you doing this? Hugo are you cutting  _ what the fuck _ ?” He’s crying again,  _ shit _ . I sink down and push myself up against the door and hide my face in my hands. A little while later, after a significant, too-loud silence I gather the courage to speak and look up at him.

          “Why did you listen? How much did you get through?” He looks like he’s about to burst into tears again and I force myself up on weak and shaky legs and walk over to hug him.

          “I um… Three recordings.” He swallows thickly. “Hugo, I should be the one comforting you.” A tear leaks down my neck, a tear that isn’t mine.

          “You seem more affected.” I try to say simply, but my voice is high and shaky and I rub his back. “So you heard all of it. I’m-” I choke a little, tears coming to my eyes, a stab in the chest following. “ _Fuck_ Bri, I’m so sorry-” I start shaking and squeeze my eyes shut. My breathing stops. _Fuck_ _how do we breathe? He hates you he hates you he hates you he is gonna break up with you because you’re too much of a burden you don’t deserve his love you suck Hugo for fuck’s sake stop being so needy and-_

          “Hugo, Hugo I need you to concentrate on my words right now, okay? I need you to breathe for me. Here,” He takes a hand that vaguely belongs to me  _ he hates you he hates you he hates you _ . “I am going to squeeze…” He fades out and I’m crying and my chest feels like I’m having an actual heart attack.  _ He hates you and wishes you just killed yourself already and that you’d stop eating forever and he wouldn't be ashamed of you.  _ I feel a squeeze on my hand  _ we’re gonna die die die, die da-da-die I think I found love  _ and I dare to try to take a breath. “-doing great Hugo, try one mo-” he squeezes my hand longer and I force air into my lungs longer until he stops squeezing. I don’t breathe out until he squeezes again and keeps squeezing and I breathe out. “Hugo, can you hear me?” He squeezes again and I breathe in and nod. “Hugo I’m so sorry.” I float back into existence. Slowly I keep breathing and keep grounding myself further. “Hugo, fuck, I’m so, so, so incredibly sorry.”

          “Why… Why didn’t you stop listening?” I realise I’m leaning right up against him and try to spring back to an upright position but he holds me firmly to himself.

          “Because you’re my hug bug and dudebro and I got scared. Hugo… Like, you don’t have to answer, but you said something about cutting…?” I pause. I take a deep breath.

          “Yeah. Um, yeah.” I’m tearing up again. Fuck. Bri brushes his fingers through my hair and plants a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I do bad stuff, patent pending.” He pushes me away just enough to see my face.

          “It’s okay. You know that I won’t yell at you. I won’t hurt you. I just want you to be happy. I now see it’s harder than I thought for you, and I’m so sorry about that.” I hiccup, the tears finally getting to me. “You can talk to me anytime you need to. I always have  time for you and you’re never the burden you think you are.”

          “I love you too Bri.” I whisper and he stands up just to lie back down into my bed. 

          “Come hugbug. I’m not going anywhere.” I give him a little smile and wipe my tears away. “You’re safe here and she can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe Hugo.” He whispers as I climb into his arms. I want to tell him. I want to tell him of the bruises, of the emotional slashes and gashes but there’s no point anymore. All there is now is his warm embrace of safety and love. If I ignore the fact that he’s here and supporting me, there’s no point in me saying that I love him. “I love you and I want you to be safe. I’m not asking you to stop cutting, but can you promise me you’ll treat any of the cuts that do happen? I can get you disinfectant and bandages, Danny always brings some over from uni.”

          “I- Bri, it’s alright I have… supplies… for this.” He holds me a little tighter. “This isn’t exactly new to me you know.” I try for a lighter tone, something, anything to try to diffuse this horrid, heavy air of sadness suffocating us but my voice didn't cut through it. 

          “I just… I just want to help you Hugo. I like you. Like I like you a lot and want you to be happy and healthy.” He rumbles into my hair with accompaniment in the form of soft strokes up and down my back. He kisses my hair softly. “Please talk to me if you are feeling like this again? The voice recorder can't help but I can at least try.” I bunch his shirt up in my fist, the soft, light blue fabric easily allowing for it. 

          “I…” I mumble. “I don't wanna burden you with this. Like you heard how dark it can get. But that's just what I can say. What's in my head is worse, heavier, darker than anything words can express. Like… The ways I express my pain hurt. They can hurt others as well and I can't let my disease hurt you.”

          “The depression?” Brian takes my free hand in his and squeezes gently. “Hugo I can deal with your depression, I can deal with your anxiety.”

          “You were literally just crying because you found out I cut.”

          “It was a shock. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overreact." I huff into his chest. “But… maybe it’s the drugs Hugo? Like what if that’s what’s helping make it all worse?”

          I purse my lips. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking?”

          “To stop doing drugs?” He looks so worried that I just instantly agree.

          “I’ll try.” He beams at me and I rest my cheek back down to his chest. He presses soft kisses into my hair.  _ Why did you agree Hugo? That’s gonna fuck you up. _

 

          We cuddle for hours, his hands softly tracing down my sides and lips trailing kisses down my neck while we watch the Simpsons on his laptop, much better than mine. “Can I ask why… Why you do it?” He speaks after a long period of silence.

          “Um… It’s… It’s just because I have bad coping mechanisms.” He turns me around and looks at me, face in a mask of concern. 

          “I’m serious Hugo. I… I wanna try to understand why you need to hurt yourself.” I give a small smile. 

          “It’s… It’s like a punishment sometimes. I fuck this thing up, like I don’t do my homework, I cut. I embarrass myself, I cut. I get a B in English, I cut.”  _ I eat a little bit more than I’m supposed to, I cut. _

          “But… But you don’t need to punish yourself.”

          “It’s more than that sometimes. Sometimes it’s to ground myself, sometimes it’s just because of habit, sometimes it’s because I’m getting angry and I can’t let it spill onto someone else so I take it out on myself.” He’s tearing up and I give him a soft smile and plant a soft kiss onto his cheek. “It’s not a sad thing Bri. It doesn’t even really hurt anymore.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. It’s light pressure but it still makes me wince. “But that does, let’s not.”  _ Oh shit. Shit he wasn’t supposed to know. Fuck. _

          “What hurts?” He looks confused and brushes the cheekbone a little bit more, and by the look on his face I understand that at least some of the bruise is showing. “Hugo, are you getting into fights now?” His voice is much gentler than I was expecting. “Who did this one?” I smile softly.

          “Just a random dude, thought I deserved it for being gay.” I try to shrug it off but Brian’s eyes widen in terror. “I’ve filed the report, it’s fine.” He pulls me in closer wordlessly.

          “Hugo.” He whispers after five minutes of just rocking us. “Hugo, I’m so sorry, it’s like… it’s like the whole world is against you sometimes. But I’m not, and you know that I’ll always be here for you.”

          “I know Bri. I promise you that I know. You’re my Bri and you’re important and you’re my dudebro and you’re perfect.” I plant a soft kiss onto his forehead and he smiles softly. 

          “I just want you to be safe Hugo.”

          “I know.”


	7. Condoms are Good

          Only a few days after our emotionally crippling then adorable cuddling, my parents are out at a work function and Belle is out at band camp. Hugo is sitting at my table and writing his English essay about some John Donne sonnet. His bruise has blackened now. He still has the sheer veil of concealer on it, but it's clear just how bad the hit must have been. "He told me he doesn't want me to visit you because he doesn't want me to burden you. So when he's home, I have to be too by eight pm and I don't want you visiting, I'm sorry." He says in an empty tone, completely out of the blue so I have to blink a few times to give myself time to process. 

          "Your uncle? You're not burdening us Hugo. My parents loved you on Tuesday and Annabelle wants to hang out with you more. You're always welcome here." I make my way to sitting on the table in front of him. He smirks and gently takes my hand. 

          "I know Bri. I know I'm welcome here, I just wanted to… like tell you that Sam won't let me visit when he's home, so we can only really hang out when he's out."

          "Sam's a dick." He huffs and makes a noise of  confirmation at the back of his throat, playing with my knuckles. "But is he better than your mother?" He hisses in a quick breath and I know I fucked up. "Oh, shit, no nevermind." 

          He thinks for a few seconds. "He's different. I think it's still too early to say definitively." 

          "I'm sorry Hugo." He shrugs and brings my hand up to his lips.

          "I have you and you are all I need." He kisses each knuckle and I want to kiss him back. I awkwardly lean down as far as I can without toppling myself down on top of him. He smirks and sits up straighter and allows me to kiss him, his eyes already fluttering shut as I take his cheek to just softly hold. When I pull away, his cheeks are tinted a light pink. 

          "I've been thinking, right…"

          "Oh no, that's not a good sign." I giggle and he rolls his eyes and flips me off.

          "Would you be into having sex? With me, preferably." He giggles at my expression and if it's half as dumbfounded as I feel, I do not blame him.

          "W-wait can you say that again?" I stammer out and he nods, a soft, gentle smile traced by his lips. 

          "I'm not gonna force you into doing anything you don't want to do. I just… I am very attracted to you physically, as well as emotionally and was wondering if you feel a similar way." He softens his voice and traces my jawline with his fingertips.

          "I…"  _ Fuck how do I do this? _ I want to. I  _ really  _ want to. "Hugo I'm a  _ virgin.  _ Do you really wanna have… intercourse… with a virgin?"

          "Being rejected because you're a virgin is like being rejected for an entry level position because you don't have enough experience. And I'm literally dating you. And I’ve literally already blown you twice. And I am really interested in sex with you. And I can always teach you all the ins and outs." I stare at him for a few seconds.

          "Fucking hell Hugo, I  _ really _ want to." He smirks and I lean down to kiss him again. "What are the logistics here though?"

          "Well, I was thinking that you'd top, because I dunno it just makes more sense for you to start out with topping because bottoming can be really weird, especially for the first time. I'm clean, like, no STIs, but I would still prefer to use a condom our first time." He looks at me and sees that I'm watching him intently. "Does that seem okay for you? You can speak up whenever something sounds off, okay?"

          "Yeah no, all this sounds pretty good, condoms are good, but I don't really know how to top."

          "It's usually easier to top first time around because I can give you all the information, and the sensations are closer to the standard masturbation practices, like, focused on your cock rather than at the back.” He continues to explain and I agree eventually that yes, that is indeed a good idea and that yes, I would indeed like to have the sexual intercourse with him.

 

          It takes a few days of determining logistics and sourcing the required materials and of picking the right time for the mood to be right. It happens soon enough though and it’s when he’s sitting on my bed again, cross-legged and golden halo of my bedside light glowing into my vision. He’s working on some Chemistry equations. I stand up and plant a soft kiss onto his forehead. “You’re beautiful Hugo.” He hums softly and pulls me down for a kiss. It’s soft, nothing we’ve never done before, and I end up softly pushing him down onto the bed. I kneel beside him. He takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a small kiss. "If you're not ready, it's okay; I swear I won't be upset or judge you. If it gets too much at any point, just stop, okay?" I smile softly back.

          "Thank you hugbug." I shift to hold his waist with both my knees, hovering on top of him. He looks up at me with wide eyes and lips slightly parted, watching my every move in pure awe. I lean down to just gently brush his lips with mine, watching his eyes flutter shut and closing my own in the process, sparks flying from every place we touch. I pepper kisses onto his nose and cheeks and forehead and he giggles and drapes his arms over and around my neck. "Hey you're pretty, d'you wanna go out?" I mutter with a smirk as he rolls his eyes at me.

          "Sorry, I already have a really hot and even more awkward than you boyfriend. He doesn't suck because I do that for him." He does this really exaggerated wink and I snort with laughter and he looks satisfied and softly strokes the baby hairs on my neck. "Said boyfriend is currently on top of me, I'm becoming more and more aroused and he's laughing." I smile and tilt his chin up and kiss him again, something that he’s taught me how to do really well and he spreads his fingers through my too-short now hair and kinda holds my head in place as I gently lick in, him engaging in the most submissive kiss I’ve ever had with him. I work a hand under his shirt and hoodie and hold his waist (too thin, holy crap) as I map out his mouth with my tongue. When I pull away-with a frankly adorable squeak of protest from him-he’s still watching me in awe. "Hugbug," I whisper and slightly wet my lips with a darting tongue, "can I… can I take your shirt off?" He blushes and looks away awkwardly. 

          "I… I guess?" I smile and plant a soft kiss to his jaw just under his ear. Then I trace a short line to my the exposed hollow of his neck with parted lips, quick hands already unzipping his hoodie to reveal a simple black t-shirt. He slides out from underneath me and sits up to make it easier for me to gently peel his shirt off. Now, to be fair, we have made out before and I have seen his chest but I’ve never had the opportunity to explore it in great detail and I plan to make the most of this opportunity. He leans back against my wall as I start to kiss and touch various bits of his body. His ribs are almost poking through his skin and I feel like I’m going to cry. He’s been hurt so much, and his body still hasn’t totally caught up to the new, improved life he lives. I take his ribcage in one hand and gently rub his nipple and I feel his body instantly tense up, and I hear a soft breath of pleasure escape his lips and he flushes a light pink. 

          "Hugo, that was hot. Like pretty dang attractive if I say so myself." I smirk and press a kiss to the hollow of his neck. And then, like an absolute dick as I’m sure he’s thinking, take his nipple into my mouth and roll it with my teeth to which he just gasps and melts into my arms as I hold him upright enough to be able to worship him comfortably. I, being the cheeky shit I am, all the while allow my other hand to wander down to his crotch and squeeze, receiving a gasp and he trembles in my arms and I look up at him with innocent eyes and bite down particularly hard, knowing he can take the small sting. He throws his head back and he thrusts into my palm. I take the opportunity to move to a new torture method and nip at his now deliciously exposed neck. "Brian…" He breathes out and I instantly stop, head moving up to level with his, his words spoken directly into my slightly open mouth.

          "Too much?" I think I blush and he bites my lip and shakes his head, cheeks still pink.

          "Not enough Bri, stop tea-" I squeeze a little harder and he’s so fucking hard. I lean in to kiss the words back into his mouth, heavy and unyielding and he just gently surrenders himself to me. He holds on to the sides of my face with only his fingertips as I mark him.  _ Holy shit how did I absorb all this skill? _ By the time I pull away, he’s seemingly forgotten what he was saying. I brush soft kisses all down his chest, hands helping in the exploration. I reach his belt and look up at him, his irises now almost completely gone, replaced with the pupils as I rub the belt between my fingers. I know what I’ll see under the fabric. I’ve now seen his chest and back and shins and calves and arms and shoulders. His thighs are the only place he’s been adamant on hiding from me this whole time we’ve known each other, and he’s never worn anything above the knee. We used to tease that he was just being a not harlot but it obviously ran far deeper than that.

          “My pale lord of the underworld, is it okay…?” He hesitates and I notice it. I sit back up on my knees and on his thighs. I soften my voice so it’s just barely a deep whisper. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t-”

          “But I do!” He exclaims and suddenly looks too scared, and quietens his voice back to a soft whisper. “I  _ do _ Brian, trust me, I’ve wanted this for a long time. I just… I dunno, I’m insecure and… You remember I have…  _ scars _ , and I’ve never had a good emotional relationship with someone I’ve had sex with before, and this will change some stuff between us…” I listen quietly and stroke the back of his hand with my thumb. I wait until he finishes and then allow a small pause before I start with my low, smart person voice.

          “I know you’re insecure and I will provide you with all the reassurance and validation you need and then add some more because I love you.” He looks absolutely stunned. “Yeah, like  _ love  _ you, not the dudebro or sex joke thing. That means I won’t leave or distance myself after we do this. And your scars? Yeah, the idea of them scares me, and I get sad if I think about them for too long, but they’re not disgusting or whatever you’ve convinced yourself they are. They just mean you’ve been hurting.” I keep my voice firm but forgiving, and let him think for a little bit and eventually he nods.

          “O-okay.” I lean down for a soft, slow kiss and he quickly unbuttons my shirt. What a rookie mistake on his part, not wearing a button up to sex time. 

          “Hugo, I’m sorry, but I need to make sure that you really want to do this, and like… aren’t just going along with this because you feel that’s what I want.” He smirks against my lips and slides the shirt off, scrunches it up and chucks it onto the floor. He runs his hands up and down my chest just like he did that first time I was like, boyfriend-shirtless around him and kisses along my collarbones and up my neck, sucking small patches of purple in the process. I swear hickeys are like his kink or something. “Yeah my dark angel of the heavens, I really,  _ really  _ want this.” He says and I grin at his joke (It’s such a good one, just really helping the continuity and stuff thereby providing security while also showing clear contrast ugh). I fumble with the belt buckle and he sends me a faux judgy look.

          “Well, if you were at the belt of a really fucking hot dude who likes you back, you’d be nervous too.” I say with false haughtiness and he just looks at me like ‘wot m8?’.

          “Dude I have been there. A couple of times, remember?” I roll my eyes with a little smirk to myself, remembering the two truly fantastic blow jobs he has given me. I finally manage to free him from his belted prison. My hands have only a slight tremor to them as I undo the button and zipper and he grabs my wrist just before I slide the fancy trousers down. “a) I love you too. b) I want to do this bit, it will hurt less for you I promise.” I smile up at him and he sits back up properly having slid down so much from last time, sliding his jeans off. I look down. Yeah, it’s bad. It’s worse than I’d hoped. It’s worse than I hoped it would be for him because I love him so much. I reach out to touch a thigh that is rough with still healing scars and I’m tearing up while he sits there motionless. I touch one of the many purple and pink and white slices, some wide and bulging out of his flesh. He has fresh ones too, all over his outer and inner thighs, red and brown and scabbed over. I kiss one of the latter ones and rest a hand on one side of his hips to ground myself. “You needed stitches on some of these.” I say, my voice much calmer than I expected, when my entire body feels like it’s freezing to death, paralysed with fear and concern and worry. I can’t find a smooth spot on his thigh to hold on to. I start doing the only thing I know how to do and kiss a particularly crushing one that looks like it’s been opened several times. Then another lighter one on the inside of his thigh and lick along another to elicit a soft moan from him. I keep kissing the cuts along the insides and sucking small little marks that show up much better on his pale milky skin than they do on mine.

          “Brian.” He breathes out and takes my hand.  _ “You don’t have to pretend.” _

          “I’m not.” I don’t need an explanation of what he thinks I’m pretending to do or think. Everything I do with him is genuine and I love him. I nip at the very top of his inner thigh and slide my hand up and down his side to a very soft squeak and then moan. “Hugo, do you want to keep going or is this too much for you?” I sit up, massaging the nipped place with two fingers as I look at him, lip clamped tight between his teeth and hair only slightly a mess.

          “I’m sorry I’m so quiet.” He mutters out, breathless and flushed. “But this is good. I like it a lot and don’t wanna stop.” I take his hand and kiss it. “I want you to fuck me tonight Bri. I want to feel you inside me and I want to make you feel good." He smirks and I melt just a tiny bit as he blinks his eyes slow, like a cat establishing trust.

          "Okay." I release him, my prison bar legs now to one side as I gently turn him over, sliding a pillow under his lap. I trace his spine, with parted lips and he shivers. I turn to grab my bottle of lube and a little foil square of a condom. I have not only listened to Hugo’s advice but also read some writings of how to take care of him. “Are you sure hugbug?” 

          “Yeah.” He breathes out softly and rests his head back onto the pillow. I’m generous with the lube and hold on to his hip and goosebumps spout from my touch. I brush his hole with my thumb, just gently, just enough for there to be at least some sort of slick around the edges too. I worm a finger into him just as he takes a deep breath and he gives me just a soft moan, muffled by the pillow and I want to take the pillow away just to be able to hear all the noises he so desperately tries to hide from me.

          "I want to hear you Hugo." I hold his hip with one hand. I press my lips to the skin near my hand. “I want to hear how I make you fall apart “Can I continue?”

          “ _ Please. _ ” He whispers.

          “Take a deep breath sweetie.” He still buries his face into the pillow. I let it slide while I prepare him for myself and take the moans he gives me. “You’re really pretty.” I mutter against his back as I relax him more. “I want you.” He responds with a soft moan.

          “I want you too.” He whispers. “I want you inside me now and I want to see you.” I turn him around gingerly and awkwardly and he doesn’t even tease me as I do. I catch a glimpse of his face and he is really prettily flushed, his lips red and swollen and bitten to all hell and I have to kiss him to try and make him feel better, to make the redness go away, to make him happy. I kiss his bottom lip, and he gives a soft breath against my lips. "Do you want to start with me?" He mutters against my cheek and I nod. He wraps his legs around my waist and I line myself up with my free hand and push in. I have to bite my tongue hard to not scream out of the sheer extent of the sensation. I give a soft, experimental thrust and he hums in appreciation. I thrust again, a little deeper and harder and he keens, deep in his throat, and mumbles. "For fuck's sake Brian, stop teasing me." I set up a rhythm that he seems to agree with, his arms snaking their way up my sides and to the back of my head. I angle myself until he gasps and trembles and grasps onto me tighter and I kiss him softly on an exhale, his lips soft, tongue sliding against mine and I aim myself to hit that spot again and again, his thighs clamping my sides and fingers pressing against my nape. I pull away to press my mouth against the groove where his neck meets his shoulder and he starts to whisper my name into my ear, soft huffs and breaths of "Brian. Holy shit Brian  _ yes. _ " I rumble his name in return, feeling myself already close to finishing. I slip a hand between our bodies and find his cock to which he makes a sort of affirmative noise  and I start to stroke him, at around the same pace as the one I use to thrust into him and his breaths turn into gasps and his pretty fingers dig their pretty nails into my back and I give him soft nips up his neck. “Brian  _ I’m-” _ he gasps out and I hum at the back of my throat as permission and he understands and he throws his head back as he finishes between our chests and tightens impossibly around me until I see white and finish into him. I hold him close to myself, and he replicates the sentiment. He strokes up and down my nape and pulls me back up to his lips and kisses me, softly, so softly that I feel that this is too emotional to deserve the weak, normalised word of ‘kiss’. It’s like he blesses me, prays to me, worships me, all at once but gentler.

          “I love you too Bri.” He says as he pulls away. I’m back enough in my own mind to softly remove myself from him, at which he sucks in a hiss. I throw the condom into my bin and pick up the wet wipes and clean us both off. He pulls me back down when I finish and turns me onto my back, resting his head on my chest, along with half his body, and holds me softly. “I really, really fucking love you.”


	8. Thick Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the sexual abuse chapter. Please take great care with reading this if you are triggered by topics directly or otherwise related to sexual abuse.  
> AUSTRALIA  
> au.reachout.com/Tough-Times/Sexual  
> www.blueknot.org.au/SurvivorLine  
> https://www.1800respect.org.au  
> USA  
> https://www.rainn.org  
> UK  
> 24-hour National Domestic Violence Helpline on 0808 2000 247  
> the Rape Crisis national freephone helpline on 0808 802 9999 (12-2.30pm and 7-9.30pm every day of the year)

          Another two weeks of school and two more of school holidays pass and Brian still hasn’t gotten bored of me. We’ve had some more encounters of the sexual kind. I’ve made him meet Tony and he was delighted that I’ve met somebody and they really gelled, almost instantly. 

          When I wake up I force myself onto the scale. 47.1kg. 23rd April 47.1kg. _Okay Hugo, 71, remember to log it_. I was 57.8kg one and a half months ago. I’ve lost 10.7kg in one and a half months. My BMI is 15. I’m critically underweight again, finally. I get dressed and go to school, first day back from the holidays.

          I come back from school on a high, new orchids blooming on the dining table. They’re pretty. Why did I hate them so much when I was younger? They’re delicate and pretty and these white ones only add to that feeling. He’s sitting on the couch, I spot from the corner of my eye. The TV is on, but the Marianas Trench ‘Fix Me’ album is covering any and all outside noise. I unplug one of the earphones, just as a safety net so that if he was to start saying something at me, I’d hear it and not get that beer bottle in his hand flung into my head. He doesn’t say anything. I pad my way up the stairs, the school bag slung over a single shoulder.

          The afternoon bleeds into night through newly opened slits in my thighs. I’ve finished all my Maths, Physics and Chemistry homework by the glowing display of 21:32 on my school table. He gave me an orchid here too. I’m not allowed to touch it of course; it’s just an excuse to have access to my room for random searches or just general invasion of privacy. He knocks on the door and opens it the very next second. “It’s late, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I fake smile and nod and he closes the door again, his filthy stink already congealing in stripes against the cream walls, the beer and whiskey stinging at my eyes. 

_I am the one who breathes the flames to life_

_I burn the innocent to breathe flames in_

_The fields are glass, he said, the fields are sin_

          I write the lines down, splitting them up as appropriate. I stand. Stretch my back. Tears pooling in my eyes again for no good reason. I’m pathetic. I scoff. _You’re pathetic Hugo._ I sit back down, desperately trying to steer my thoughts away from my razor blade stashed in my phone cover. _Wow you really want to cut for the second time today Hugo? That’s weak, even for you._ I climb into bed. I click my lamp off first. Then I pull the covers over my head. I want Brian here. I want Brian to hold me and tell me he loves me. I don’t know why I’m sad again. I don’t know why I can only be happy, or _am I pretending_ around other people. I miss my dad. I miss Tony. I want to go home. I click the recorder on. I can’t say anything, of course, but I can think and pretend that the recorder can hear it. I wish I could pop that pill in my bag. Fucking Brian, telling me I can’t do drugs anymore. I’m an addict, what do you really want me to do? I dig it out, kinda subconsciously at this point. I roll it between my fingers. It can’t really be that bad. How would Brian find out? Why does he even fucking care? I hear footsteps creak the floorboards outside my door. _Fuck, dry swallow it_. So I do.

          An instant wave of regret hits my stomach with the force of a typhoon. _No that’s wind and rain, we’re thinking of a tsunami. Tsu(yoi) - Japanese - strong. Nami - Japanese - wave._ That’s not too creative now is it Japan? _It works, shut up Hugo._

          It is to the point, you’re right. 

 

          The door handle turns. _Panic, panic, danger, hurt_.

          He walks in, swaying only slightly more than he did before. I glance over at my alarm. 00:16. What the fuck? How did that happen? When? 

          My head is shrouded in some sort of fog and he leans over me. The sheer force of the smell making me dizzier than I already am. His hands are on my hips and _no we don’t like this, no, not okay._ We struggle, but he silences me with a harsh slap. It rings in my ears and he rumbles. 

          “Turn around.” _No, no this is not okay, this is rougher than Brian and this is not okay, it can’t be okay._ I try to say something, but my throat is blocked off and he applies pressure somewhere that’s vaguely my torso. I comply, well, my body complies and it turns around, my body starting to sob, the tears wet on my pillow. _Isn’t crying on a pillow like really bad? Like it’s a biohazard, and what if the pillow never dries but instead just rots._ He rips off our trousers, our soft sleeping trousers and there’s a laugh somewhere in the air. I’m torn apart.

          My head slams against the wall and I see stars. _Orchids Hugo, they’re orchids, pure, and white and whole and pretty._

          There’s a smashing noise somewhere underwater. _It’s the orchids Hugo._ I think I can hear crying and I think it’s me that’s crying and I can feel myself tearing into shreds. One shred to dad. One to Mother. One to Brian. One to Darya, AJ, Doc, Amelia. One each. _DADA. Isn’t that a Harry Potter thing?_

          Oh fuck I haven’t been breathing. I try to take a breath but the agony intensifies and I feel the breaths on my neck and the rumbling and the whiskey and no, no, not breathing is the best option here.

 

          The next time I dare to look over at my alarm clock, it shows 03:53. Then I remember that my voice recorder is still going and I grapple for it in the darkness and I click it off when it meets my hand. It's too late to sleep. I need a shower. And it's the next day so I need my razor. I softly remove it from the phone case, noting with only mild interest that my hands are shaking. This is it I guess. This is going to be a royal shitstorm when the shock wears off. _Fuck, I wish mother was alive, mother was better than this. Manipulative, abusive, controlling, but she never fucked me._

 

 _Maybe I can convince myself that it didn't happen? Maybe I can decide what I feel again?_ I dig the razor into my thigh, hot water pouring down onto the open wounds. I feel something slide down the inside of my thigh and more tears make their presence known until I want to tear into my throat and rip out my vocal chords so I don’t have to hear the horrid, attention seeking, almost screeching that erupts from my throat. Too silent, of course, for detection. I lather my body wash, vanilla scent tearing me up and I sob once more. I scrub until I’m red, a few tears evident on my hips, where his hands are still grabbing onto them, the handprints burnt and scarred onto my hips. I want Brian here. Well, not _here_ , not in the shower with me, but _here,_ emotionally. I watch the blood seep into the drain, staining the vanilla suds pink. He said I’m allowed to do this. He said that it’s okay for me to cut, but no drugs. I broke the drug rule. I can’t tell him what Sam did because he told me that I shouldn’t do drugs, so he’ll say that this was my fault. I wait until the blood stops flowing down my thighs.

          I pull my blanket and pillows off the bed and curl into a corner and plug my phone into a different powerpoint. I plug in my earphones and play Evanescence to soothe my raw skin rubbing against a new pajama set. _I long to be like you, in a hole in the ground with you_. You’d never do this Father, would you? You were lovely to me. You were my dad. Tony would never do this either. I’m so happy you found him. Do you remember the ‘dad/father’ conversation we had?

_“Why do you call me father? You call Tony Tony so there's no point in differentiating the dad words.”_

_I shrugged then. “I dunno it sounds more fancy, like I'm a Victorian teenager who drapes himself dramatically onto chaise lounges and has too much money and time on his hands.”_

_“Hugo, that's the gayest thing I've heard in years and my husband is a gay music teacher.”_

          I still love you both. You were both the best guardians I’ve ever had. I wish I could live with Tony; he’d never touch me this way. 

          I need a smoke. I want my mind clouded by that fog. I want my mind to go back to that blessed disconnect. I want to forget how to feel my body, the pain and the stretch and the handprints. I’ve already broken the rule. In for a penny, in for a pound. I sneak out of my window, making my way to the park I hang out at sometimes. I light up a butt I found on the way, not wanting to break into my stash of full cigarettes quite yet. I wear my smoking coat, all the supplies ready for me and the clear purple lighter lit up prettily in the darkness of four am. I take a drag, the smoke from this one thick and strong. The smell might stay for a while. There’s an instant rush, like I’m instantly dizzy but it’s the good kind of dizzy. I like this kind of dizzy. I take another drag, pushing it deep into my lungs, holding it there for a little while and then pushing it out again. I like this kind of dizzy. It feels good. Nothing else feels good. It’s hard to sit down but I force myself onto a swing, hissing at the slight sting of pain that arises from it. I’m fine. This is good and I’m okay. I smoke the rest of the butt and put it out on my ankle. It blisters instantly, a milky white bubble that will inevitably pop the next time I take off or put on my socks.

          Somewhere into the second full cigarette, a wave of sobbing knocks me onto my ass, hands shaking almost enough to make me drop the fag.  _“I’ve been screaming on the inside-”_ Tears pour down my cheeks and I tremble into a building panic attack. 

          I know it’s enough for today when just after I finish the fourth one, my entire body violently heaves and the water I’ve drunk today spills onto the woodchips. I’m so dizzy now, and this one is not the good kind of dizzy, it’s the dizzy that clings at your bones like onto a strip pole. The nausea laps at my toes.

          I’m in the room again by the green numbers of 05:24 and tuck myself back into my corner of blanket and pillows. I’m not going to school today. There’s absolutely no way I can bring myself to look into Brian’s pretty eyes and pretend that everything is okay. 

          I play Subway Surfers until I hear the front door close and watch Sam’s car drive away to work. It’s 07:53. I send a quick text to Brian that I feel too sick to go to school today and he replies within the eighth hour with assurances that he’ll get my homework tasks for the day. I squeeze my eyes shut, craving some sort of comfort, anything really, so I pick up a stuffed toy at random. It’s the big green dragon that Amelia got me last September. For no real reason she said, and I’ve sobbed into the squishy toy many more times than I can count that October and November after the shock of September wore off. It hurt. It still hurts as I remember Dad’s blood on the tiles. It still hurts as I remember screaming for him to wake up, begging and pleading and _screaming_ until my voice was almost too hoarse to talk to the police. Some passersby called the police because they heard gunshots. They didn’t see me in time to turn me away and I didn’t see them in time to be warned and the police wasn’t at the scene yet. One of the people who called the police was a boy my age, maybe a little older, and he was the one who pulled me away from my father’s corpse and he held me as I struggled and eventually slipped into catatonia. That was how I met AJ, the new kid in year twelve. Then the court case of custody and Mother was deemed a suitable guardian, considering our blood relation, and Tony didn’t fight too hard because she had convinced him that she’d changed. I wonder if he had known what she used to do to me, if that would’ve made him less placating and less of a pushover?

          Maybe not. I guess not, and that’s okay. I need another shower.

          I just sit on the tiles of the shower, steeping myself in the steam and hot water jets. The vanilla too much for right now. I need to buy a different body wash. I need to be clean. I dry myself off after a half hour of warmth and slip into more warm clothing. I grab my wallet and my bag. My stomach rumbles as soon as I step out of the house but I feel vomit build at the back of my throat. I can’t eat. If I was thinner maybe he’d be disgusted by my body enough to never touch me again. I plug in the earphones again. More emo shit. I walk quickly to the nearest Big W, a fifteen minute trip. 

          I pick out a lavender soap. It smells clean. 3.45 dollars later and I pad my way back to the house. The hell house. The vanilla and whiskey and ash soaked house where Hugo died again. If I call Brian, will he get mad? If I sob into the phone about shit I can't tell him will he break up with me? Yeah he probably will. I put the sheets and pillowcases and blanket cover through the washing machine and subsequently, the dryer.

          I wish I was dead. _I wish I was dead_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take care of yourselves and here are the support places again  
> AUSTRALIA  
> au.reachout.com/Tough-Times/Sexual  
> www.blueknot.org.au/SurvivorLine  
> https://www.1800respect.org.au  
> USA  
> https://www.rainn.org  
> UK  
> 24-hour National Domestic Violence Helpline on 0808 2000 247  
> the Rape Crisis national freephone helpline on 0808 802 9999 (12-2.30pm and 7-9.30pm every day of the year)


	9. Relapse

          He’s become more distant. He didn’t wish Millie Eid Mubarak. He shakes more often than he used to. He doesn’t let me touch him anymore. We sit together at our favourite cafe as he sips his chamomile tea.

          “Hugo, I’m worried.” I break the silence with a firm voice.

          “What about?” He doesn’t look up from his phone and keeps. He ordered a lemon meringue tart and still hasn’t touched it. His entire face looks like a mask. He hisses when his thigh brushes up against anything. I’ve seen the bruises that litter his skin when he forgets to pull his sleeve down or stretches and reveals his midriff. He looks like he’s dying. He’s skeletal.

          “You.” He furrows his brows at me.

          “Don’t.”

          “Hugo, you look  _ sick _ .” I push his tart closer to him. 

          “Yeah I feel ill, I don’t think I can eat that.” He looks at me with a soft gaze and slides around the cafe circular sofa to sit right next to me. He places a hand onto the back of my neck. “Is it okay if I kiss you now?”

          “Hugo, what’s going on?” I spring back. “Like what in the actual  _ fuck  _ is going on with you? You haven’t been talking to me properly for days at a time and you’re always like, vibrating, and you flinch when I touch you and now it’s this? What’s going on Hugo? Talk to me, please?”

          “Brian please stop yelling.” He says softly and stands up. “Let’s go outside.” I nod and stand up with him as he slips on his coat.

          He takes me to a park and sits down onto a swing, motioning me to sit on the one next to him. I do.

          “Hugo, what’s going on? Is Sam not good to you? Are you stressed?” He sighs.

          “Brian, I’m just sick. That’s all this is. I’m not important enough for you to care about.”

          “You had a panic attack after maths and you couldn’t pull yourself out of it. You’ve never needed help getting out of one before, lucky that Dasha was there.”

          “I’m  _ just sick _ .” He looks at me, his eyes empty. 

          “I love you so much Hugo.” I start to tear up and he watches. “I want to  _ help _ you. You look like you’re starving. How much are cutting now? Is Sam beating you?” He doesn’t look like he’s hearing me. I stand up off the swing and hug him. “Is he not feeding you like your mum did?” He pushes me away after a minute of silence and mutters something about a curfew.

 

          “Hey Tony, thanks for letting me come over.” I say as I sit down onto his couch, a soft plaid tweed in a mustard colour range. He makes me a ginger tea and I cradle it in my hands as he sits into the matching armchair, cradling his own milk tea.

          “Any time. Are you alright? Safe?” He looks over at me, concerned and that’s all I need to start tearing up. “Oh Brian, alright, may I hug you?” He says softly and I hear the soft thud of his mug hitting his wooden coffee table just as I start sobbing. He takes the mug out of my hands and it joins his own as accompaniment to my nod. He lets me rest my head onto his shoulder and softly pats me.

          It takes a little while for me to calm down, the process aided by his pats and soft, kind words. “It’s Hugo.” I say with a rusty voice when I am finally able to speak. 

          “Yeah. It usually is.” He whispers and keeps patting me.

          “He looks like he’s actually  _ dying _ . I haven’t seen him eat for weeks and he flinches when I try to touch him now. He’s cutting much more than he used to. He’s always wearing makeup now, even though his face is clearly smooth and I’m just kinda panicking because he doesn’t let me in like he used to.” I start sobbing somewhere midway through and I don’t know just how clear my words were.

          “Hugo is very hurt. He’s had to see a lot of things. He’s developed coping mechanisms. When he lived with me and Will, he’d do things to cope with stress and memories that we didn’t like. He’s very sick Brian. He has so fucking many of these illnesses, and he’s had them since before I even met him. We encouraged ballroom and sports and study to distract him from the bad memories and they usually helped him. He had just started eating normally again and he was much happier and he was alright. Then Will passed away and he relapsed, and he relapsed hard and then I lost him.” I watch with a sort of disconnect how Tony talks about Hugo. He must have been such a good dad. I wish he’d never had to leave Tony. My fierce, smart, beautiful Hugo didn’t deserve the life he was given. “Is his uncle hurting him?”

          “I dunno. He doesn’t let me come over to visit if his uncle is home, but when I’ve seen Hugo’s body, there are bruises. He always says that he’s just anemic, but he had a really, really bad bruise around his liver that was like the size of both of my hands splayed out and he said that someone kicked him.”

          Tony stares at me, his eyes wide with horror. “Brian, what? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

          “H-he has been beaten up by people before on his way home. He thought it was because he looked ‘too gay’ or something. He told me that these were just the same but stronger people. He said he’s filed the police reports.” I stammer out, his hands clamping around my wrists.

          “Brian, you should’ve told me earlier!” He raises his voice and I hang my head.

          “I’m sorry Tony, please don’t yell.”

          “I need to call him.” He runs his hands through his hair. I nod and start to stand up. 

          “Text me what’s up, okay?” He nods.

 

_           ‘He said that he’s very stressed about the HSC and that he’s getting flashbacks about seeing his dad on the floor. He said he’ll see a counselor at school when he’s starting to feel himself slip again.’ _


	10. Blister Packs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the tags again on this chapter. Please, please take great care in reading this if you are affected by these themes. I have some more resources below.  
> AUSTRALIA  
> 13 11 14  
> Beyond Blue - 1300 224 636  
> Call Back Service - 1300 659 467  
> USA  
> National Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> https://www.crisistextline.org  
> UK  
> SANEline on 0300 304 7000  
> The Mix on 0808 808 4994 (Sunday-Friday 2pm–11pm)  
> Switchboard on 0300 330 0630 (10am–10pm every day)

          I can’t cope. My hands are shaking and I’m blasting the same song again and again but all I want to do is just get high and forget everything. I wanna forget Brian, I wanna forget the feeling of hands on my bare skin, no matter how gentle those hands were, no matter who’s hands they were, I want to burn the fingerprints off and just forget they ever touched my skin, to forget the faces of all the men who’ve ever been with me because each one of them hurt me, broke me down to my bones and stained their filthy hands with my blood and left me alone to die. Brian doesn’t care. Brian doesn’t care and he never has and I  _ still smell the whiskey _ . At least it’s not vodka like Mother. At least it’s a suffocating smell and these fucking walls still smell like vanilla.  I drink my medicine. I drink the cough syrup and almost throw up again at the taste. I rinse my mouth out and lean over my table, hands firmly planted on it, head hanging down as the waves of nausea crash and crash into my shaking body and I almost throw up again. I search for my headphones and desperately turn them up as loud as they go and blast my depression playlist.  _ When I was a child, I heard voices _ And my hands shake and shake as I feel myself spiralling. Even Brian wouldn’t be able to drag me out of this hell, I’m trapped in a whirlpool of pain and I feel the sobs claw their way up my throat and erupt as I collapse onto the ground and desperately clutch at my stomach and sob, the tears dripping down from my face and onto my hands, onto my cold, dead hands that can’t move and I want Brian here. I want Brian here so he can see the mess I am and so he could leave me so I never have to worry about him doing it again. He’d never hurt me, he’d never tell me that I’m not worth it, he’d never tell me that he can’t deal with me, he’d never touch me again and as much as that hurts, I’m sure that’s what I need. I need him to leave because I’d rather be alone than live with this crippling fear of him leaving me and never coming back because he would have already left and I’d have nothing left to worry about. I want him to leave and I think I’m pushing him away at a good enough pace for my want to become a reality because I honestly can’t handle it anymore. I don’t want his love. I don’t need his love, all I want is for him to leave so I never ever have to worry or care again. I’m rocking. Fuck I didn’t realise I was rocking. I want to go home.  _ I just want to go home. _

 

          I wake up to my body violently shaking. I must have passed out without my blanket. I stand up and check my phone, seeing a text. It’s Brian. ‘Thank you for talking to Tony for me’ I talked to Tony? I check the time. 18:34. I check my call log and yeah I did.  _ What’s going on with me?  _ ‘I love you so much'

          ‘im so sorry brian. can i come over?’ He replies with a thumbs up emoji and I leave the house, Sam far away in Canada.

 

          I walk to his house. He makes me tea. I drink it. I start crying. He hugs me and I full body flinch on his couch but turn his head to face me and kiss him to avert suspicion and he kisses back gently. "Hugo, are you okay?" It happened two more times. One on the third day after and then on the second day after that. I can still feel his breaths on the shell of my ear. It still hurts.

          "I'm fine Bri." I try to smile but I kinda forgot how to move my face . “Can we just…” I slowly lean in and he sighs, the sigh of Atlas as his bones start to crumble. He kisses me and I allow him to continue. To claim what Sam has left me for myself. He rests a hand on my chest and I lean back onto the couch.

          It’s bitter. The bitter taste spreads through my mouth as I let him kiss and nibble at my neck. I can’t make any noise. I’m a porcelain doll, dropped too many times, cracks ornamenting my skin, my lips shattered. I can’t move my limbs and the panic just shuts down my body. I can’t hold my lover close to reassure him that I love him because my limbs are no longer mine to control. He’s shaking on top of me.  _ He’s gonna touch you he’s gonna hurt you he’s gonna break you he’s no different everyone who cares about you only cares to see you fall. _ I feel the hands at my hips, a tight grip but I can see that Bri’s stopped moving and just looks down at me with concern. I think his lips moved.

          Handprints are all over my body. No matter how hard I scrubbed, he still remains on my skin. I’m torn apart and I feel Brian trying to bring me back to consciousness. 

          “Hugo.” He calls to me from the surface as I braid seaweed into a noose. “Hugo, please talk to me.” His arms snake around my waist and I flinch again and I’m back.

          I disengage myself from him and grab my phone. “I’ve gotta… um yeah.” I clear my throat and stand to run away.  _ All you ever do, Hugo, is run away. _ It hurts that he calls after me. It hurts that I can hear him start sobbing before I leave. It hurts more that I don’t stop and turn around.

 

          The panic attack and subsequent vomiting don’t hurt.

 

          At lunch I text AJ to meet me at the back of room 35. I spent recess locked in a toilet cubicle to avoid Brian's judgement. He comes quickly, just five minutes into the break. "Hey Hugo, what's up?" He calls as he's approaching, his lips upturned into a soft smile. I slide down the brick wall and cross my legs. He sits down next to me. "Are you okay?" No more soft smile. Just  _ concern concern concern _ . 

          "If I tell you something, can you promise not to tell anyone else?" I say, my voice rusty with disuse and the daily purging and the flood that’s been swallowing me up. 

           He tries to take my hand but I flinch it away and it's no longer  _ concern _ but now  _ fear _ . 

          "Hugo what happened?" His voice is urgent.  _ Don't tell him don't be weak you're weak if you tell him how dare you say anything don't tell him.  _

          "Promise me." The squeak of a teary voice announces its presence. 

          "Of course Hugo, what's going on I'm shitting myself." 

          "I-" I make some sort of movement with my hands and a tear spills out. I take a gasping breath and he watches me patiently. "I was- I was raped." 

          He gasps and that's apparently all I need to start sobbing like a little bitch.

          "I-I can't… I can't sleep because his hands are still all over me I can't eat I can't drink I can't think about anything else I'm falling apart and I can't tell anyone because they'll all judge me and I'm already regretting telling you because you won't be able to do anything about it anyways and I'm torn to  _ fucking shreds and I am forgetting how to breathe-"  _ I gasp in another breath and he looks just about on the verge of tears too.

          "Hugo you need to tell the police." He whispers and he's crying now too. "You're right, one hundred percent right, I can't do anything about it, but they can. Fuck-  _ Fucking hell Hugo _ ." He rips a hand through his hair, fucking the perfect AJ hair up. "Can I hug you?" I shake my head softly, Sam's hands gripping my hips hard again and I can't fucking do this anymore.

          "I have no proof." I say softly, hysteria easing into catatonia. "They won't believe me because I scrubbed all the evidence off myself and I'm a guy and I'm gay and not white so they probably won't even take me seriously." I lean myself onto his chest, processing finally that he wanted to hug me. His arms wrap around me and it's different, better, than Brian's arms. 

          "I'm not going to force you to do anything. I'm also not going to tell anyone." I nod into his chest, more sobs spilling tears onto his shirt. "But I want to  _ encourage  _ you to tell an authority about this." He takes a small pause. "Does Brian know?" I mutter a small negative into his chest and he sighs. "Hugo, he's really worried. Like  _ really  _ worried about you. He loves you so much. Please talk to him again. He called Doc yesterday sobbing something about you being really closed off and cold and we're worried that you're getting really sick again."  _ How can we be really sick if we only just reached the diagnostic weight criterion for our disease? We're teetering on the edge of sickness and health.  _ When will it be enough for you? When I pass out and crack my head open on a table? When my heart finally gives up?

          "I… I'll be fine, I just need to deal with this first."

          "It's okay to ask for help when you need it Hugo." He softly pats my shoulder and I nod into his chest and keep sobbing.

 

          I wait for my bus after school. Brian found me. “Hugo, what the fuck is going on?”  _ Is he angry or am I reading too much into this? _ There’s no one around to watch us. “I need you to start talking to me,  _ please _ .” I pull out a cigarette and light it, ember reflecting off the fury in Brian’s eyes. “Hugo I thought you stopped.” His voice is low and intimidating and I feel a laugh building at the back of my throat. I breathe the smoke out behind my back, along with the wind. He walks up to me and grips my shoulders hard, apparently not giving a shit about my flinching. I almost slap him.

          “Why do you care Brian?” I say, my voice surprisingly level for someone on the verge of tears and I watch as his face shifts through an entire spectrum of emotion with open-mouthed fascination. 

          “Because I _ fucking love you _ Hugo. It’s not that hard to understand, that people who love you are panicking when they see you killing yourself.” His voice is cold. He can’t love me when his voice is so cold.

_ I am the one who breathes the flames to life _

_ I burn the innocent to breathe flames in _

_ The fields are glass, he said, the fields are sin _

_ The rain pours through my flames, the sea brings strife _

_ I submerge, then I am pulled under knife _

_ The choppy waves slice my soiled flesh, my sin _

_ I don't let my pain show, as blood through skin _

_ Seeps, and into the sea, the beast laps, rife. _

 

_ I bleed. Another puff of smoke, alone _

_ I let the smoke in, let me in. Atone _

_ For mine sins. Let me burn, O Lord, I burn _

_ And then I sob, let them out. My lips scorn _

_ I scream my tears out, bleeding words onto _

_ Flesh pages, parchment going brown, fall through. _

 

          I’ve finished the poem.

          “You don’t love me Bri. You would’ve figured out how sick I am a long time ago and then you would’ve left me, if you really loved me.” My vision laps at my feet like that same sea. 

          “No, no Hugo, I do love you, I love you so much that I’m panicking when I see you act this way. I love you so much that I would do  _ anything  _ to help you, but you don’t care enough or are too far in to your illness or something to see that and realise that and to just  _ fucking talk to me _ .” I stare at him silently. “Fucking hell Hugo are you high?” I take another drag of the cigarette, which he rips out of my hand and stomps out.

          “What’s it to you?” I giggle and all emotion vacates his face. Stoic, guardian, emotionless, douchebag.

          “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Go fuck yourself.” My smile drops off my face as I watch him take another step towards me. "I'm fucking done with your shit. I want nothing to do with you, I don't care about you, and I don't love you." I watch him turn around and call, without looking back, "We're through Hugo." 

 

_           I told you he doesn't love you.  _ "Shut up." I mutter and slice a stripe into my forearm. It opens like a mouth, red saliva leaking out into words.  _ You're worthless and a waste of space. Everyone who's ever loved you left. Brian left, your mother left, Dad left. You deserve all of this pain.  _ "No, no, not everyone." I pull out my phone with a shaky hand. I dial Amelia.

_           "Hi! This is Amelia, I'm not available right now, please leave a message." _

          AJ.

_           "Hey this is Alistair Jones, I can't come to the phone, chuck us a message." _

          Darya _. _

_           “Dasha here, text me something; I don’t listen to my voicemail." _

          Tony. Please, Tony would answer wouldn't he?

_           "This is Anthony Besson, I'm not able to take your call right now, please leave a message and I'll get back to you." _

_           No one loves you Hugo. It's your fault for dating while you're still sick. No one will give you pity for fucking this up. You knew that this was going to be a possibility. _

          I text them hearts and something to soothe any possible worry: 'sorry buttdial aha'. I need my pills. Codeine and Alprazolam and paracetamol and all kinds of pill blister packs. I place myself into a soft nook of the couch with the bag of pills and the old dusty bottle of vodka and Spike. Thank fuck I took them from Mother. I pop three codeine with a gulp of vodka. It burns my throat, but I like it.  _ This is what you should’ve done any day for the past seventeen years. I’m so proud of you. _ I swallow some Alprazolam, pretty white bars, with some more vodka. I’m already floating away. I take the rest and fade into the blackness, clutching at Spike as I die.


	11. Phone Calls

          Hugo isn't at school the day after. Or the day after that. 

          Amelia pulls me aside after she comes back from her prayers at lunch, Dasha by her side with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

          “Sweetie, have you spoken to Hugo recently?” I shake my head at Amelia’s gentle tone. She and Dasha exchange a concerned look. 

          “You know that he’s sick, right?” I nod in confirmation and Dasha leans up against the wall, brushing her black hair out of her face. “He called us three days ago, both of us and AJ too, all at almost the same time.” She sighs. “We were out at the movies, and didn’t think he’d be into it so didn’t ask him to come with and our phones were off and now we’re fucking scared.”

          I take a few beats to process. “Did he say anything? Like… Why he called?”

          “He said that is was a buttdial. But like…” Amelia pulls her phone up and scrolls through three screenshots. “Exactly the same text and a phone call to three different people within three minutes, and you can probably see why we’re worried honey.” She gives me a soft smile and Dasha hugs me as I sob into her neck for entirely too long. When she lets me go, I wipe at my teary eyes. It only takes one look between me and Doc for him to catch my distress as I get back to our squad place.  _ 'Come over after school, you can cry at me then'  _ he texts straight after the look and I nod at my phone.

 

          “Stop being a dickhead.” Doc looks at me judgily just before I bury my face into my hands in his room. “You love him. Stop being a fuckwit and go tell him that. You can’t just abandon him when he needs you most.” He hugs me and I start to sob again.

          “Doc I don’t know how to help him anymore. I have tried everything and he’s only getting sicker and sicker and he talks less and less to me. Trust me, I’m trying to help him so much but… I don’t know, I feel like he doesn’t want me and that he’s just pushing me away now. I can’t help him if he doesn’t want help.” He pats my back gently and sighs. I clench my hands in the thin fabric of my shirt. “I love him so much."

          "You need to talk to him. Text him or something, tell him you were wrong, grovel if need be, just do it before he does something dumb, please." Doc leans his head on mine. "You shouldn't have told him that you don't love him." He says really quietly and I nod. 

          "I fucked up so hard."

          "He shouldn't have started doing drugs again."

          "No he shouldn't have."

          "Let's go out, AJ can help make a text to send to him and we can see if we can cheer you up a little." He says after a long silence. I shake my head and he releases me. I stand up, tears already welling in my eyes. 

          "I can't… I'm sorry. I need to be alone for a little bit." He looks at me with concern so I give a small laugh. "And you need to pick up your clothes, your room is a mess." I pick up a black binder laying next to my foot and I chuck it at him. He sighs, gets up and leans down to pick something up next to my feet. 

          "Oh, oh shit hey, I think you dropped this." I look down as he gets up and stretches out his middle finger to me. 

          "Ha ha very funny, I'll be taking that back thank you very much." He smirks and hugs me.

          "Be safe. Nothing stupid is allowed to happen to you or to Hugo. I  _ will not  _ allow it."

 

          I drive to  _ our _ spot back at the national park. I sit down at the lake's edge and it's nowhere near as beautiful as it is when Hugo is by my side. My lovely Hugo.  _ Fuck, I fucked up so bad.  _


	12. Typhoon

          I didn't die. Not yet I guess. I open my eyes and instantly regret it, a spear lodged into my head, stirring at my brain. I promptly shut them again, another stab at where my stomach should be and then my liver and then my gut and I have to sprint to the bathroom as my bad decisions  escape me. It only hurts more. I force myself to drink a glass of water until I can actually keep it down and not in the porcelain bowl that is suddenly my best friend (It takes four tries). I lie down onto the couch, tearing up from the stabbing pains, the nausea, the palpitations. I think a quick thought of texting Brian but then I remember why I had to do this to myself and I start to cry again.

          The sobbing must have triggered some sort of gag reflex because I have to sprint to the bathroom again. Now that I'm up again I might as well make a heat pack for the cramps. I throw the bag into the microwave for three minutes and on shaky legs climb the stairs to get to my charger in the hell room. I trip near the bottom and smack my head against my wrist against the tile.

 

          The next time I wake up, I not only have agonising cramps but also possibly a sprained wrist and a possibly sprained ankle. The headache remains a solid eleven on the pain scale of one to five. I stumble up, back onto my feet and  _ I want a heat pack. _ I dig around in the cupboards and find one, a muddy shade of purple corduroy. I chuck it into the microwave.

          Why is there already one in there? I take the new one out and touch the old one. The old one is a little warm.  _ What's going on? _ I feel tears well in my eyes and close the microwave, the cold heat pack still clutched in my hand. I set it for two and a half minutes. I swap them out at the end and start it again.

          Pressing the heat pack to my stomach does little but burn, a tiny reminder of the pain that got me here. Something is poking at my hip.  _ Did I really try to kill myself with my phone charger in my pocket? _ I make my way back to the suicide nook as it henceforth will be called. I plug my phone into the charging port and lie down, one heat pack on my stomach and another on my chest. I turn my phone on.

_           'Hugo I'm so so fucking sorry' _

_           'I shouldn't have said all that to you' _

_           'I love you so much and I hate seeing you hurt' _

_           'Please tell me you're alright, I'm so scared and I'm so sorry' _

          These came in at 15:57. There's another one, a few hours later.

_           'I love you and I understand if you can't forgive me for this. I don't know what's going on in your life right now and if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know because I can't lose you. I'm being selfish right now, but you're so fucking perfect and I love you with my entire being and I don't want to and I can't lose you'  _

          My vision whites out with the pain. It's like someone stabbed a thousand white-hot needles into my liver and I cough, having the air sucked out of my lungs, but I can see stars and black flowers bloom and burst into the whiteness. I grasp onto the couch but it grasps back and claws at my skin and I think I'm screaming and I hear whispers and I  _ know  _ I have tears in two streams down my cheeks. I think I scream for Dad at one point.

 

          It turns out that I was unconscious for three days but for some reason I didn't die. That means that I haven't seen Brian for five days. He probably hates me now. I want to message him, my (near) entire brain is screaming at me to reach out to him and kneel at his feet and beg for forgiveness. I don't. Pride is a true killer among men. I go to work, my exam time break officially over and I serve shitty coffee to shitty customers.

 

          I walk back to Sam's house. I must have gained so much weight from not moving post-overdose that I really fucking need this.  _ You're probably back at 50 again _ . I shake the thought off, try to shake the thought off.

          I get back to Brian at the dining table and Sam sitting opposite him. I freeze.  _ Fuck Brian knows everything. Brian knows how filthy I am, how weak I was to let it happen, he doesn't want me he hates me again. _ I slide my eyes shut for a second and then watch Brian watch me. How can I tell him that he's not safe here? How can I tell him that he's in a volatile position and if he doesn't leave he's putting me and himself in grave danger. Another cramp hits, their severity only slightly dampened by the time passed since their origin. I manage to not show the pain I'm in. 

          I look at the orchid in front of Brian. Its edges are turning brown. It's dying. 

          "Hi Hugo, your friend here came over because he was worried. Why don't you tell him you're fine? We have a lot we need to discuss." Sam's voice is sickly sweet like the vanilla staining his house. 

          "Seriously Bri, I'm okay, please go home, I'll text you later." He looks at me, face twisted into a mask of worry and confusion. He walks over to me.

          "Why didn't you answer my texts? Hugo, are you  _ really _ okay?" He reaches out to me and I flinch away again, another cramp seizing up my liver. “Hugo, I don’t want to leave you.”

          “You  _ need  _ to.” I start muttering at him softly. “You need to leave,  _ right now _ . Text me later, please, just leave now. I-” I throw a glance over Brian’s shoulder to meet eyes with Sam, an entire typhoon building behind his eyes.  _ Yes, typhoon, a typhoon is accurate for this one, good job Hugo.  _ “I love you Bri and I need you to get the fuck out right now.” He purses his lips and nods. Fuck, I must look so desperate, I’m clutching at him. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want him to leave me with Sam, alone, ready to be beaten to a pulp and used however he wants to use me. But he needs to leave. If he doesn’t leave he’d risk being as used as I will be and I can’t bear that.

          “I love you too.” He nods again and leaves.

          Sam waits a minute out of silence. “Your mother warned me that you might have been… broken, like your father.” He pours himself a glass of whiskey. “Our night time activities clearly haven’t fixed that.” He sips at the brown liquid, looking at me like he expects a response.

          “My father wasn’t broken.” I say softly and he starts laughing. 

          “Your father was fucked up in the head. A filthy fag, just like you. He deserved to die.” Fuck I’m tearing up. I’m showing weakness.

          “He was the best guardian I’ve ever had.” He walks up to me, nearly face to face. “He was always there for me, he always supported me and he never hurt me.”

          “Which is why you caught his disease.” I swallow hard but don’t say anything. “You’re disgusting and you deserve to die. I tried to fix you, I tried to make you normal and scared of men.” He grabs my elbow and I almost instantly go limp. Limp but standing.

          “You’re the diseased one here.” He scoffs and throws me back, a coffee table meeting my ribs. Everything is submerged within a second. An ocean of red. He approaches with a fist. It meets my liver and it screams in protest. Another strike meets my jaw. Then another and  _ I can’t breathe again, _ the taste of rust spreading through my mouth.

          “You’re disgusting.” He kicks me as I curl around his foot. “You make me sick.” He kicks me again and spits down, wetness on my cheek. I tear up. “You deserve to die like your father.” He kicks again and squats down, ripping my chin up to meet eyes with him.  _ This is the end. Close your eyes and count to ten. One.  _ He slaps me hard, tears welling up in my eyes. “You dare bring a black fag into my house?” He kicks me again and I cough up something that tastes suspiciously like blood, no longer rusted blades across my tongue.  _ Two _ . “I want you fucking dead. When your mother asked me to take you ten months ago, just in case something happened, I said yeah okay. But you’re here now, you’re filth and you’ve ruined me.” He kicks me again. I start to drown, black spots dancing across my eyes and I think I’m shaking and I can’t- “Turn around.” breathe anymore as his  _ Three _ hands spin me and I’m floating. I am the sea. I am peace. I am the seaside garden. I sway. I am the calmness after and before the storm. I am still. I am the jellyfish floating.  _ Four _ I float.  _ But I won’t float oh no, won’t float, I won’t float _ . I am ripped out and ripped open again and I  _ can’t breathe _ . I am filth I am emptiness I am the night, starless and barren. I am sand, all there but none  _ Five _ and all in one. I am dusk, twilight, then the witching hour. I flow but change is not real. I am a homogenous being. There’s atom and void,  _ Six _ but there is no atom. I am void. There is nothing but the emptiness. I am mother, child, father, son. I am the sun, the moon, the day, the night.  _ Seven  _ All things are one. I am both sides of that coin. I am both sides of hot and cold.  _ Eight _ I am birth and I am death. I died before I was birthed.  _ Nine _ I was never alive but you have to be alive to appreciate death so I must have been alive before I died and was birthed.  _ Ten. _


	13. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last hurdle kiddos

          I pace my room. I am going  _ fucking insane _ . I can barely breathe, thinking what Sam is doing to my precious Hugo. I need him here, now.  _ Ground yourself Brian, please just ground yourself _ . I take a deep breath.  _ Five things you can see _ . Stella, my bedcovers, Hugo’s pen, my maths textbook, my rolling chair.  _ Four things you can hear _ . Cars passing by outside, my desktop whirring, birds outside, my footsteps. I sit down onto my bed,  _ three things you can feel _ . I run my fingers across the bedspread. My blanket, Stella and my scarf. I climb into the bed, starting to tear up and curl around Stella.  _ Two things you can smell _ . My cinnamon diffuser and the lavender and mint oil that Hugo got for me when I had headaches before bed. I’m back. I take another super deep breath.

          I love him so much. I miss him so much. I pull the blanket over my head and sob.

          Mum knocks softly after what seems like forever. “Hi honey. Can I come in?” She speaks gently and I mutter out a ‘yeah’ through a tear-tight throat. “Is there anything I can do?” I sit upright in the bed, eyes bleary and she gives me a soft smile. I nod and hug her and she hugs back. I think I started sobbing into her shirt and she just holds me and pats my head. “We’ll stay home today then, alright? I don’t want to leave you alone.” She says softly and I shake my head. 

          “No mum, it’s okay, I’ll be fine, just remember to restock the peanut butter sometime soon.” She gives a soft huff of laughter.

          “We’ll bring back snacks  and we can have a movie night when we’re back, okay? It won’t take long, just a boring work thing, we’ll be done by eight and home by eight-thirty, we’ll bring Belle back too and we’ll invite Danny back over and we can just have family chill time.” I give her a soft smile back and she gives me a squeeze. “He’ll be okay Bri. Everything will work out.” I nod into her hair and release her. She gives me another soft smile and walks out. I pull out my phone. ‘You look like you’re dying hugbug’. I then fall asleep.

 

          I wake up to a text message. It’s seven-something right now and I read it. ‘i am’. Panic builds again and I’m tearing up again. The doorbell sounds.  _ They’re early. Good, I need to talk to someone about it _ .

          I practically run to the door. It doesn’t quite click at first what I see when I open it. Red and rust brown and purple staining a tan shirt and pale, almost translucent skin. It’s a person. Black hair. Deep brown eyes in a deep panic. “I’m sorry Bri.” He’s sobbing and I want to inv-

          It’s Hugo.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck it’s Hugo, he’s hurt, bleeding, fuck.  _ “I’m so sorry, I had nowhere else to go, I’m so sorry.” I take him into my arms and the tears cloud my vision. He’s shaking, a backpack already slipping off his skeletal arms. He goes limp. I have to force myself to not buckle. I pick him up, his tiny body absolutely emaciated.  _ He looks dead _ . I shake the thought out of my head. He needs me.

          I carry him to my bed and lay him down, the years of football finally paying off. I take his hand and almost instantly release it again, the coldness cutting through my skin.  _ Okay, check for injury first, any open wounds, and then deal with the probable hypothermia.  _ I unbutton his work shirt and start to clean him up, having had to run to the kitchen for water and antiseptic and cotton pads and cloths. His chest is a mess, his abdomen even worse and I can barely bear to check the state of his legs. The skin on his abdomen is just one whole bruise and there are wounds that I don’t know if I can treat. I can’t take him to the hospital, I know how much he hates them, and then he’ll be trapped between having to go back to the house of Satan or staying in the white-walled ward. His arm is bleeding badly and there’s a cut on his scalp and it doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.  _ Fuck. _ I cover him in blankets from my and Annabelle’s (she won’t mind right?) rooms and he stirs. I wait a few beats and softly call his name but he doesn’t respond again and I start to sob, tears streaking down my face as I throw a heat pack into the microwave. I crouch, desperately trying to hold the sobs in, but they escape and I don’t know how to help him.

          I come back with the heat pack and pull one of my sweaters onto him. I get a quick glimpse at his now mostly cleaned chest and I start sobbing again. I can see all the bones in him through his skin. I feel like I might explode from all this pain and all this sadness and I hug him, desperately whispering to him how much I love him and how sorry I am and how much I want to kill Sam.

 

          It’s ten to eight when he wakes up. He sees me and starts crying and I start crying too. I stand up off the chair and put my phone onto my bedside table. “Hi Hugo. It’s okay, you’re safe now.” I pat Belle’s floral blanket to his side and he starts sobbing more, sitting up and doubling over, hiding his face into his open hands. “Can I hug you?” My voice cracks but I don’t think either of us really care that much and he nods and I hug him, taking great care to still give him space, only my arms touching him, but he still ends up sobbing even harder. I try to pull my arms away but he shakes his head. I climb into the bed with him and hold him, the blankets and heat pack clearly doing nothing to ease the coldness of his skin. I hold him and let him cry into my chest, I let his hands grab onto my shirt like a lifeline, like he’s drowning and my shirt is his flotation device and he’s clinging onto me and I let him cry. I let him release all the pain and I keep telling him that I love him, desperate to not let him forget, terrified of him forgetting.

          I hear the doorbell ring at near half past eight. They’re home. They ring it again and then open the door themselves. “You suck Brian! You need to open the door for your sister!” Belle calls and Hugo stirs into my arms, significantly warmer than he was earlier. She stomps her way to my room and crosses her arms. Then her eyes widen and she quietly walks over to me. “Fuck.” She whispers and I assume she saw the bloody cloths. “Hugo?” I nod and she purses her lips, tearing up too. “I’ll tell mum and dad, okay?” I nod and she quietly scurries into the living room and I can hear her muttering through the rustling of wrappers. Dad peeks in through the open door and flashes me a thumbs up with a worried and questioning look. I shrug and look at the cloths on the floor to which he gasps softly and I nod. He nods back and I give a soft, teary smile. 

          Hugo wakes up around a half hour later. He stirs and softly grasps at my shirt again. He hisses in what appears to be pain and I whisper more reassurance. “You’re safe honey. It’s alright, I’m here, you’re in my house and you’re safe.” He nods into my chest.

          “It hurts.” He whispers and I nod.

          “Do you want to go to hospital?” He hesitates for a second and pulls away, looking at me for the first time in a while. 

          “I… I think so.” He nods and I give him a soft smile. “Just not now.” 

          “That’s alright.” I softly stroke his back. “You’re doing great Hugo. I’m so glad that you’re here and that you are asking for help.” He nods into my chest. “Do you want to have some tea? We can go watch a movie with my family?”

          “I need to tell you what’s going on. I need to tell you what happened.” He pulls away from me and I give him another smile. 

          “You can tell me when you’re ready Hugo, you don’t need to say anything you aren't ready to say." He sniffles.

          "Let's have tea and talk. I want you to know." I plant a soft kiss to his forehead.

          "Of course hugbug. Mint and green again?" He shakes his head.

          "Chamomile please. Valerian if you have it?" I nod and he sits up in the bed, hissing and flinching at his own movements. "I… I don't think I'll be able to get up." He's tearing up again and I give his hand a soft squeeze. 

          "That's alright honey, you don't have to. We'll have tea in bed and we can talk about anything you want to talk about." A tear leaks out of his left eye even after a valiant blinking effort to keep it inside. He nods shakily and lets go of my hand.

          I make my way to the kitchen, vomit building at the back of my throat out of… fear? Anxiety? Something. "Hey Bri, how is he?" Danny squeezes my shoulder and I force him into a hug. "Do you want me to check stuff out? I don't mind and Belle said she saw blood?" I shake my head and pull away.

          "I don't think it's a good idea; strangers touching him right now might trigger a panic response again." I click the kettle on. "He's awake right now though, like shaky and sad and panicky but he's awake." I look over at Mum. "I'm going to take him to the hospital soon, is that okay?" She nods.

          "I'll drive you guys." She says and I know there's no arguing. In my state of mind I'd be lucky to just get there in one piece. "Just let me know when, okay?" I nod and wait in silence for the kettle to boil completely. I pour myself a Lady Grey and him a loose valerian root tea into a loose leaf baggy. 

          "Hey Hugo, I'm back." He looks over, as if I had snapped him out of some kind of trance. He gives a soft smile.

          "Hey." Fuck he looks so small, so young. He looks fragile and I know that he's anything but that, strong, independent, crazily intelligent, but he's beaten to a pulp under layers upon layers of blankets and  _ so scared _ . 

          I gently place our teas onto my bedside table. He takes a trial sip of his, (I had put an ice cube in it to cool it down to a good temperature) and follows up with a deeper drink.

          "I was raped." He says simply and I'm glad I'm seated in my bed because I'd be sprawled unconscious on the floor otherwise. "Three times before our fight and once more after you left. He's never hit me this hard before though, the most in one day was a kick to my stomach and a glass thrown at my head. I had an overdose five days ago and only woke up again yesterday afternoon. It still really really hurts and I'm almost certain I fucked my body up really bad." I'm sobbing and he takes another sip of tea and squeezes my hand. "I'm sorry I didn't sugar coat it. I don't want you to have to listen to drabbling."

          " _ Fucking hell  _ Hugo, I'm so sorry." He gives a soft smile.

          "It's alright Bri. I just got a little hurt, but I'm okay."

          "Nope." I stare at him dead on. "You're not allowed to downplay this. This is  _ fucking hell _ . You've been through  _ fucking hell _ and I'm  _ so proud _ that you're still here and you're still standing and I'm not letting you pretend that this is okay." He's tearing up but I hold his hands as tightly as I can in mine. "Because it's  _ fucking not _ . I refuse to let you bandaid this up. Not this time. You need to burn the infection out, you can't let it fester like you've always done because it will eat you up and then you'll relapse and maybe that time you'll take enough pills and you'll die and I  _ can't  _ have that happen.  _ Fuck Hugo _ , I love you so much and you're seeking help and you're  _ allowed _ to feel happy and you're  _ allowed  _ to deal with this shit because I want you to find  _ peace. _ " He's sobbing now, his tears streaming down his cheeks as his body shakes and coughs out sobs. "I won't let you hide anymore and yeah it's scary and yeah you'll never be the same, but you fucking  _ need  _ this Hugo. You  _ need _ to get better because I  _ can't handle _ losing you." I take the mug out of his hands and he's nodding, sobbing in what looks to be agony and I want to make him better, just with a snap of my fingers but I know I can't.

          "Brian I'm  _ drowning _ and- and I've been  _ drowning _ for  _ years _ , my whole  _ life _ and I  _ can't handle it." _ He manages to choke out through his sobs and I pull him close to my chest, holding him like he's a drowning man, because he  _ is _ . "Brian everything's been  _ so fucking bad  _ and I keep trying, keep trying to float and stay alive but  _ I can't do this  _ anymore."

          "We'll get you help. We'll find a way to get you into a ship and we'll give you the best quarters we can and you'll be safe there." He nods and I don't let go until he stops sobbing, holding him as close to myself as I can.

          "I… I think I might wanna go to the hospital now." He says softly and pushes at my chest gently to pull himself away and I nod. I get out of bed first and he takes my hand as he gets up himself. I walk us downstairs, him as gingerly as I can but he still gives his soft yelps and hisses of pain and I just hold his hand tighter, desperate to not let him go.

          "Mum…" I call from the hallway and she gets up from the couch with a chaste peck to Dad's cheek. 

          "Do we want to go now?" She asks softly and I nod, Hugo's hand gripping mine like a vice. She gives him a kind smile and he nods, tears welling in his eyes again. I type out with one hand for Mum to text Tony where we're going and she nods and takes my phone. We need a guardian present and Sam is not going to cut it.

          In the car we sit in the backseat together, him lying down, his head on my lap and I play with his hair. "Hugo they're going to ask a lot of hard questions. They might call Sam in too and I need you to be strong and answer all their questions. I'm going to try to stay with you as long as I can but I'm not sure exactly where they'll let me go with you." He nods at my thigh and we stay silent the rest of the trip sans the turned down pop music of the music system.

 

          We meet Tony out front of the hospital. I help Hugo out of the car and take the backseat blanket to keep him at least sheltered from the wind of a late May night. He sees Tony and starts sobbing, diving straight into his arms. Tony holds him tight, an arm around his back and a hand splayed out on the back of his head, and starts frantically whispering something I can’t quite hear while Mum leaves to park the car. Hugo moves to pull away after maybe a minute of comfort and Tony instantly complies. “Kiddo, I’m so sorry.” Hugo nods and sobs into his hand as he’s taken into another embrace, gentler and he calms down quickly enough. “Do you have your Medicare card?” He nods and pulls the card out of his card holder phone case and Tony smiles and squeezes his shoulder. “Always organised, that’s my boy.” Hugo gives a soft chuckle through the tears.

          “I didn’t expect to be beaten today but at least I can seek free healthcare for the fucking up.” Tony nods and keeps his lips softly upturned. He squeezes Hugo’s hand and he nods shakily and Tony nods back. I watch Hugo’s eyes flick to the ER door and then at me and back at the door. I soften my voice. “You ready?” He purses his lips and nods, a slight tremor in his left hand, the one holding Tony’s hand. We walk in.


	14. Chapter 14

          I place myself onto the mustard yellow plaid tweed couch. Brian’s coming over for the first time since my discharge. Tony asked him to look after me while he has to stay back for a parent teacher night. He happily obliged. Like yeah he’s visited me in the clinic but I haven’t been alone with him in two months and I cannot wait to see him one on one. 

          When the doorbell rings I practically jump up to answer, the world not twisting into the void for once and I attribute it to my starting the recovery process. I open the door and Brian instantly pulls me into his arms, peppering soft kisses all over my face and I giggle and hold him still for long enough for a real kiss and when he pulls away he gives me such a gentle look that my heart skips a beat and I feel a blush creep onto my cheeks. “I missed you so much Bri.”

          “I missed you too hugbug.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and I can’t help but melt for him. “I brought you a few gifts because I saw them and was like ‘ooh Hugo would like these so um, purchase pls’.” I giggle into the back of my hand and he smirks. “Couch and it’s present time.” I bounce and clap excitedly and yeet myself onto the couch.

          “So if I develop multiple mental illnesses that literally make me non-functional and recover from them again, I will have another present time?” He huffs with laughter as he sits down next to me.

          “You fucking know it. But you probably won’t be able to have sex for another like month after you’re discharged.” I shiftily look away with a smirk suppression pout, like the duck-face but like, inverse.

          “How’d you know ‘bout that?” He laughs, a soft, fresh laugh and  _ fucking hell I missed that sound _ . He unlocks his phone and shows me texts from ‘The One and Tony’. “Did you just pun my dad?”

          “Yup.” He pops the ‘p’ and I keep reading, the put on scowl evaporating.

_           ‘Brian, my ‘dude’ my ‘bro’ my ‘fam’, The Brian King if one will’ _ I send Brian a judgy look as he is the proxy for Tony at this very moment.

_           ‘Hello Tony’ _

_           ‘I need to talk to adults and their offspring at work today for longer than usual (read: Parent Teacher Night)’ ‘I, of course, will give them the blessing of my presence, HOWEVER’ ‘Hugo needs a person to make sure he is safe (doctor’s orders, I’m not controlling I swear)’ _

_           ‘You would like me to look after Hugo?’ _

_           ‘Yeees’  _ There are a few teary eyed begging emojis and I send another judgy look to Brian and he shrugs. “Yeah keep scrolling, it only gets worse.”

_           ‘When would you like me in your abode?’ _

_           ‘Tomorrow night until eight something?’ _

_           ‘I can most certainly do that my good famalam’ _

_           ‘Okay BUT, more doctor’s orders’ ‘Hugo was advised to not partake in sexual intercourse until he is in the clear or on medication for a heart thing because they don’t want him to have a heart attack while being intimate’ ‘I am 87% sure he’ll remember and follow doctor’s advice, but I need to have the 13% as a backup and you’re the 13% congrats _ ’ “For fuck’s sake he coud’ve just said ‘Heyo don’t fuck my son’ and that would be so much less effort.” Brian has to suppress another laugh at that.

          “Keep reading.” _ ‘So basically ‘hey my son has a heart thing don’t fuck him’?’  _ “You see, I have  _ significantly  _ more tact than you.”

_           ‘Exactly’  _ “I hate you.” I squint at him and he smirks.                         

          “Yes, but I have presents.”

          “Okay I no longer hate you.” He smirks and kisses my cheek. He pulls out like seven hundred-gram skeins of yarn.

          “Okay, so they’re variegated black and rainbow and there’s a holo strand running through the entire ball, I think, don’t quote me.” I’m literally grinning and I pull him into a tight hug.

          “I fucking  _ love  _ them Bri, holy shit. I’m gonna make a jumper and it’s gonna have fancy cables and it’s gonna be warm and shit ohmygosh thank you so much.” He leans down for a soft kiss and I allow him to be given one.

          “There’s another thing, and I’m not certain that you’ll like it and it’s a bit awkward to give my dudebro, my mate, my fam, my-”

          “-boyfriend.” I cut in with a smirk and he gives a nervous smile and pulls out a little box.

          “Yes, but it makes sense to give it to my  _ boyfriend _ .” He rolls his eyes jokingly and I smirk. He opens to box and my heart twists in the ‘oh no he spent money on me and I feel bad but I also really want this thing’ way. There are two pendants, two delicate swirls of silver intertwining in each and a stone in the silver crafted cradle. 

          “These are beautiful Bri.” I say in a hushed voice and his face melts into a smile. “ _ Fuck. _ ”

          “They’re our birthstones. I’m an amethyst and you’re a ruby, and I was thinking that maybe we could have these like kinda our couple thing, like swap them? Like yeah, they’re feminine and stuff, but they’re so pretty and so-”

          “They’re perfect Bri. Like actually, genuinely flawless in every shape and form.” He gives a soft smile and I kiss his cheek. “Like my boyfriend.” I pick up the ruby one and twirl my finger in the Daniel Howell ‘microwave’ way and he does the sound effect and turns around. I gently clip the necklace on and, unable to resist, nip at his neck just a tiny bit. He makes a sound of protest at the back of his throat. “Sorry, you just looked so good.”

          “Ah yes, but I don’t want you to have a heart attack on me tonight.” He turns me around and clips the amethyst one on me. “Now we’re branded. Like cattle at a ranch or something.”

          “Hot.” He gives me a soft smile. 

 

          We talk. We talk for a long time. I tell him about life with Mother before I moved to Dad and Tony’s place and the broken plates and cupboards and lashings and doorless years. He tells me about growing up in a mainly white and straight neighbourhood and the ‘you don’t belong here’ looks and his dad coming home with a bloody nose. I tell him about life with Dad and Tony, zoos and piano lessons and hot meals and artwork on the fridge and pragma. He tells me about Belle feeling like Belle and not like a Ben and the smiles and celebration and the room redecoration. I tell him about Dad and the blood on tiles and AJ holding me back. He tells me about fear and X-rays and bloody vomit and emaciation and how Doc cried on his couch while his family still called him Jenny even as he was dying. Tony tells us about Dad and panic at a toaster popping and honey sweet kisses and lost brothers and love and warmth. I tell them about hope and visas and dinner with Darya’s parents and celebration. He tells us about Amelia and her hijab and joy and hours of embroidery with her and her sister and starchy doughy sweets. Tony tells us about music and composing and togetherness and teaching and smiles. I tell them about meeting Sam and the dark and the bruises and the blood and the agony and the sleepless nights. He tells us about meeting me and friendship and concern and love and helplessness and hope and puns and study dates and fear and love again.


End file.
